


A dark way that leads to my house

by pentacle



Series: The Crystal Universe [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:52:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 66,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2107110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentacle/pseuds/pentacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur begins his rule in Camelot and Arthur and Merlin are handfasted.</p><p>Title inspired by the Annie Lennox song "Dark Road".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“I could send a group of knights to escort her.”

Merlin stopped bundling a spare tunic into the small leather bag and looked up.  “If it turns out that she’s…” his voice failed him and he dropped his eyes to occupy himself with ramming his blue neckerchief in after the tunic.  When he could go on, he continued, “…if she’s dead.  Then I want to be there to talk to people who knew her and find out what happened.”  He took a deep breath and met Arthur’s eyes again, “but if my mother’s alive then I want to be able to explain to her myself what’s happened.”

Arthur shook his head unhappily, “You know I’d go with you…”

He dropped the bag onto Arthur’s bed and crossed the room to cup the back of Arthur’s neck affectionately with his right hand, twisting his fingers to feel the silky blonde hair curl through them.  “You can’t possibly leave Camelot now, not so soon after declaring yourself King, and with Uther under guard in the West Wing.”

Arthur sighed, they’d talked about it several times already, and the logical course was always the same, but that didn’t mean they had to like it.

Arthur pressed a kiss to Merlin’s lips.  “I suppose I can last a week without you.  I’ve been meaning to interview for a new manservant anyway.”

“I’ll be happy enough not to have to wash the floors anymore, but I don’t want to give up everything.”  Merlin ducked his head, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to take care of your armour and I’ve gotten used to looking after you.”

“So all that constant whining about how much you had to do…”

Merlin grinned back, “I might not have minded some of it.”

Arthur put his palm flat across his own heart and widened his eyes comically.  “You’re like the mother I never had.”

A horrified laugh bubbled out of him unexpectedly.  “ _Please_ don’t say that.”

Arthur grinned.  “The trip will do you good at least.  You’ve been like a cat on hot coals recently, maybe it’ll settle you to be out in the open for a while.”

Merlin shivered and went back to his packing, Arthur wasn’t wrong.  When Merlin had awoken on the morning after the Yule Feast he was almost too full of energy to contain and as optimistic as he’d ever felt.  For the following few days he’d been walking on air and had supposed it was all down to the release of tension and the joy at feeling safe with Arthur.  But gradually the elation had faded to a kind of aimless restlessness and he’d found himself shifting erratically from task to task, trying to find anything that could make him feel settled.

“You’re taking Gwaine with you?” Arthur phrased it as a question, but they’d argued about it enough for Merlin to know it was merely his attempt to be tactful.  Initially Merlin had wanted to travel completely alone; while Arthur had wanted him either not to go at all, or at the very least to be accompanied by a cohort of knights.  Gradually Merlin had whittled away at his objections until the final compromise was Merlin travelling to Ealdor with Gwaine. 

“We’ll be fine.”

“Cenred will have heard of the changes in Camelot and will be looking at whether any of it can be worked to his advantage.  He’d love to take the future consort hostage.  He’s too cautious to move against Camelot openly, but if he had the excuse to capture you while you were in his kingdom…”

“We’ll be careful; take the back roads and avoid any patrols.”

“Aren’t you taking any of your new clothes?”  Arthur frowned.

“We want to be inconspicuous.  And besides, I don’t want to swan in there like lord of the manor, I just want to go back as me,” said Merlin softly.

Arthur gave a small shrug, but Merlin knew him well enough to interpret it as a signal that Arthur understood. 

“Send Hunith my best wishes.”

Merlin tried to lighten the mood, which had grown suddenly melancholy; neither of them wanted to be parted even if it was only for a few days.  “Well, if all goes well, then I should be bringing her back to be at our handfasting.”

Some of the tension drained from Arthur’s shoulders.  “She’s a lovely woman, It’ll be good to see her again.”

Merlin grinned proudly.  “She really is.”

Soon Merlin was ready, he hoisted the bag over his shoulder and took one last glance around Arthur’s room.  Though now that all his clothes were hanging next to Arthur’s in the wardrobe and he slept in the bed every night, he supposed it was also his own.  He was surprised at how comfortable that felt.   

Reluctantly he shut the door behind them and they went down to the courtyard.

When they came outside into the crisp, winter air and stood at the top of the broad stone stairway they could see Gwaine was already waiting for them in the courtyard.  He stood holding the reins of two horses, his own bay, and a beautiful dappled grey.  By the look of it he was trying to exercise his roguish charm on Gwen.  Although she was laughing shyly as she passed him a parcel of food for their journey, Merlin knew that it was all play between them. From everything Merlin had heard from Lancelot, Gwen had only had eyes for Lancelot since he’d returned.

“I haven’t seen that grey before.”

Arthur shrugged.  “I thought you might like her, it might do your appalling riding skills a bit of good to own a horse rather than taking any broken down nag that’s available.”

Merlin gaped at him, “she’s wonderful!  What’s she called?”

“Hreohnes, apparently it means…”

“’Storm’ in the old language.”

“I should have guessed you’d know.  I thought it was appropriate, with you being my warlock, to have you riding on a storm.  What was it you said to me once, about building the myth?”

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze.  “You’re absurd and I love her.”

Arthur flushed at the pleasure in Merlin’s voice, then continued brusquely as they descended the stairs, “and she’s placid too, but not too much; spirited enough to give you a gallop when you want, but an easy ride when you don’t.”

They reached Gwaine and Merlin apologised for keeping him waiting.

“No need, I’ve had delightful company.”  Gwaine winked at Gwen.

Merlin turned to greet her, but his grin froze and faltered when he saw the way she cringed.  She shivered and ducked her head, “Well, good luck on your journey, I’d better be getting back inside.”

Arthur put out a concerned hand to touch her arm, and Merlin noticed that she didn’t recoil from him, it was Merlin she was afraid of.  She would have been in the Hall with everyone else when he killed Morgana. 

He’d only seen Gwen from a distance since that night, everything had been so busy.  Arthur had told him she was dealing with it well all things considered, and although she was grieving for Morgana, she was also fond enough of Arthur to accept that Morgana’s murderous plotting had brought her fate upon herself.  Arthur had been careful to find her a new place as a maidservant with Lady Erin, who was kind and gentle. 

“Gwen…” said Merlin.

She took a hasty step backwards, almost hiding behind Arthur.  She wouldn’t look at him, and her lip curled in distaste, though she tried to hide it.  It was as though she thought him soiled and that he might dirty her with just a glance.

He was embarrassed to know that Gwaine and Arthur had both noted her reaction and were uncomfortably silent.

Gwen turned and left them with quick steps to disappear back into the castle. 

Hreohnes butted Merlin’s arm, but he stroked her warm, grey nose absently, all his joy seemed to have evaporated leaving him feeling hollow.  He forced a smile, but knew Arthur wasn’t fooled.  “We’ll be back soon.”

Arthur tugged him forward into a bear hug, his voice was a whisper against Merlin’s ear.  “Don’t let it hurt you.  She’s had a shock, she’ll soon realise you’re the same friend she’s always known.  Just give her some time.”

Arthur released him and stepped back to allow Gwaine and Merlin to mount their horses. 

“We’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss us, princess,” said Gwaine with a cocky grin.

“I’m tempted to tell you to take your time,” responded Arthur dryly.  “But I need you to bring him back soon and safely.”  He caught Hreohnes' reins to hold her still for a moment, and used his other hand to squeeze Merlin’s thigh.  “Don’t take any risks, and come back to me quickly.”

Merlin’s smile this time was genuine and warm.  “I won’t stay away longer than I have to.”

Arthur reluctantly let go of the reins and Merlin and Gwaine urged their horses forward.  Merlin turned once in the saddle as they reached the main gate, and saw Arthur still standing there watching them go.  Arthur raised a silent hand in farewell and then they were through the gate and out on the road.  


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur had been right and getting out into the countryside did seem to calm Merlin’s raw nerves.  As they got closer to the border with Essetir they turned onto the lesser used forest paths.  The tracks here were pitted and treacherous with icy puddles but Hreohnes turned out to be the ideal mount, good-natured, sure-footed and alert; riding her was a pleasure and her responsiveness made him feel like a better rider than he knew he was. 

Gwaine chatted easily to him the whole journey, and after Gwen’s reaction it was reassuring to be with someone who wasn’t either afraid or disgusted by him.  Since the feast he’d had those reactions from others of course, but he’d expected it from them and was ready for it.  Somehow, perhaps because they’d been such close friends, he’d never expected it from Gwen and it had cut somewhere deep inside him.

He shook his head, he’d been a fool, of course she would hate him.  In the instant of using the dark magic to slice open Morgana’s throat he’d gone from the person she knew, to a sorcerer who’d hidden his magic from her and murdered her mistress and her friend with just a thought.

He should have sought her out sooner, explained to her himself why he’d had to do it.  Truth to tell perhaps he’d been avoiding her, the days since had been hectic, yes, but he could have found time to search her out if he’d really wanted to.

Gwaine looked across at him with a frown, and, as he’d already done many times before on the journey, launched into a wild tale of his adventures that Merlin suspected was heavily embroidered, in order to divert him from brooding. 

As before, it worked, and Merlin relaxed somewhat and in return related tales of his childhood in Ealdor, or of what Camelot had been like in his own universe.

By the time the sky began to darken and they found a small clearing to pitch camp Merlin felt as fondly about this version of Gwaine as he had his own. 

They tethered and unsaddled the horses.  Then took hay from the netted bags that had been behind their saddles to pile onto the icy ground for the horses to graze on.

Gwaine pitched the tent while Merlin gathered firewood and used his magic to set it blazing merrily.  He speared the rabbits they’d brought with them on a long branch and set them over the fire to cook.

As he was moving to sit back on the rough blanket they’d spread over the ground by the fire, he was startled by Gwaine tossing a wineskin at him.  He caught it just in time.

“Drink up, friend, we’ll get it refilled in the tavern in Ealdor.”

Merlin unstoppered it and took a mouthful of red wine.  It was dry with tannin and tasted rich as ripe blackberries.  It was far better than he expected and he guessed Arthur had provided the contents.

Merlin passed it to Gwaine who took a swig and then regarded the wineskin with new appreciation.  “This is good stuff.  We won’t get this quality there.”

“You won’t get any quality of wine there,” said Merlin, “There’s no tavern.”

“What?”

“Don’t look so distressed, we do brew mead and ale, but there’s no wine and no tavern.  I told you it was a small village.”

”I suppose I can cope on ale for a few days.  You’re sure your mother won’t mind me staying with her while we’re there?  I can always pitch the tent up just outside the village.”

“If she’s there then she won’t hear of it, not if there’s a place in front of our fire for you.”

“You admire her very much.”

“I do,” said Merlin, “she’s always been my rock.  She’s so brave and stubborn…when our village was attacked by bandits she walked all the way to Camelot for an audience with Uther himself to ask for help.  She’s not intimidated by anything.”

“She sounds a lot like you.”

Merlin blushed, “No, I’m scared by a lot of things.  I’m scared that the people of Camelot will never accept me for a start.”

“You’re still upset about Gwen’s reaction, she’ll come round.”  Gwaine leaned forward to turn the rabbits.  “Couldn’t you just ease the way with a tiny bit of magic and make her forget that she’s afraid of you?”

Merlin’s mouth fell open in horror.  “No!  Gwaine…just NO.  That’s dark magic.  That’s taking control of someone else’s mind.  That’s…that’s horrible…”

Gwaine shrugged, “Not sure why it’s so bad, you’re not hurting her.  In fact you’re making her feel a little better.”

“Supposing I did that to you?  Made you…I don’t know…stop liking the taste of wine.”

“I’d drink more mead I suppose.”

Merlin shuddered, “it’s the first step to changing someone into…some sort of puppet…taking away their personality.”

“I guess it’s lucky you’ve got this power and not me,“ said Gwaine, “I don’t know as I’d think it through as deeply as you do.”      

 

*****************************

 

Late the next afternoon they reached Ealdor.  Although Merlin was eager to see his mother, they made sure to circle the village carefully first, checking that Cenred’s men weren’t keeping it under any sort of surveillance.  But there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen.  Old Edith was in the wicker pen at the back of her cottage feeding her chickens.  Sam was slowly trudging down the main path on his way home with a couple of rabbits slung over his shoulder.

It was the same scene he might have seen five or six years ago, things barely changed at all in a place like this.

Living in Camelot for so long had seemed to change his sense of scale.  Now as they entered Ealdor he saw it through Gwaine’s eyes and realised how tiny it was.

Merlin felt a vague prickling of guilt, as though he was betraying his village by seeing it this way.

Suddenly Merlin felt his whole body stiffen and he halted so fast that Gwaine jerked round in alarm and his hand fell to the hilt of his sword.

“What’s the matter?”

“There!”

Gwaine followed his pointing finger to the old man in the rusty orange robe who was coming back from the forest with a small bundle of wild roots in one hand.

Before Gwaine had time to react Merlin was running towards the figure at full pelt.  As the old man saw him, he threw his arms open, dropping the roots heedlessly to the path.  Then Merlin covered the last few steps and was into his arms and hugging him fiercely.  He buried his face down into the bony shoulder, feeling the wispy white hair fall lightly across his face.

“Gaius, I didn’t know where you’d gone, I thought I might never see you again.”

Gaius’ hug was equally fervent and Merlin could hear the emotion making his voice quaver, “Oh my dear boy, I’ve missed you.”

After a long moment he felt Gaius’ hands move to his shoulders and push him away to hold him at arms’ length, while the watery, blue eyes scrutinised him.  “Let me look at you.  Oh, you look well, thinner than I left you if that’s possible, but well.  There’s a light in your eyes.  Did you find Arthur?”

“I did.  Oh Gaius, there’s so much to tell you.  But is Hunith here?”

“Of course she is, my dear.”  Gaius’ white brows lowered in concern as he saw the tears of relief begin to spill down Merlin’s cheeks, and he pulled him back into a reassuring hug.  “You must tell us everything.  Everything will be alright now.”

And for perhaps the first time since the Yule feast, as Gaius hugged him like a father, and let him weep onto his shoulder, Merlin really thought it would be.

 

******************************

 

Merlin was deeply relieved to find that Hunith was as she always had been.  She opened the door of the cottage, and her eyes lit up as she saw Merlin. 

Her brown hair was still barely touched with grey and escaped from an olive headscarf in long careless strands that gave her the look of a young girl.  She spared time for a brief welcoming smile at Gwaine, before pulling Merlin to her and enveloping him in a tight embrace.  She smelt of warmth and home, and her arms around him were like comfort and unconditional love made flesh.

Soon they were inside the small cottage and Hunith was expressing her love by feeding them all copious quantities of rabbit stew.

Afterwards, they sat around the fire.  Hunith only owned two chairs, so she and Gaius took those, while Merlin sat cross-legged on the floor and Gwaine lounged lazily to one side of the hearth like a Roman emperor.

As Gaius and his mother listened intently to his story, Merlin couldn’t believe how lucky he was.  He was home again, and three of the people he loved most were alive and well and sitting around him.

Hunith froze as he cautiously related the part about finding his own dead body, he tried to relate it as delicately as possible but the tears over-spilled her eyes and began coursing down her cheeks.  She seemed to be totally unaware of them as they dripped from her face to spatter onto her bodice and didn’t move or react. Her expression was unreadable.

Even Gwaine was sitting up tensely now.  Merlin looked at Gaius, he was also crying but he smiled encouragingly through his tears and nodded at him to continue.

Finally he came to the end of his tale and waited for their reaction. 

“One part of me grieves deeply, but another can’t believe how lucky I am to have you still here,” said Gaius, reaching down to run his fingers through Merlin’s unruly dark hair.

“Mother?”

Hunith smiled gently and looked down at him, as though seeing him for the first time.  “You seem like a dear, dear man, but I’m not your mother.”

Merlin swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat.  “What?”

“I’m the mother of that Merlin…in the well.  My son…”  Her voice cracked and it was a moment before she could continue.  “…my son is dead.”   

Merlin just stared at her, he realised his lips had fallen open and he must look like someone utterly bereft and witless.  He finally found his voice, “but you’re my mother.”

Hunith looked at him kindly, “You’re a copy of my son, and you seem as lovely as he was, but you’re not _my_ son.”

“Hunith,” began Gaius, “don’t be too hasty, you don’t fully understand…”

Hunith looked at Merlin, “Did you break your arm falling out of old Matthew’s apple tree when you were eight?”

Merlin wanted to give the right answer just so that she would look at him with love, but he had to be truthful, “no…”

“Did you fall through the ice on the lake when you were twelve?’

Quieter now, “no…”

“Did you travel with me to visit my cousin in Caerleon when you were fourteen?”

Just a bare whisper of breath now, “no…”

“You see,” said Hunith softly, “my son did all these things.  I really do think you seem a genuinely, lovely young man, but I can’t be your mother, my son is dead.”

“You can’t say that to him!”

Merlin seemed to hear Gwaine’s angry outburst as though he was deep underwater.  Everything around him seemed muffled and strange.

“But…” Merlin tried again, he swallowed, he faltered, “perhaps you could learn to love me…?”

He saw that Hunith had tears running freely down her cheeks, “It’s just too painful, you look like him.”

“Hunith!”  Gaius sounded angrier than Merlin had ever heard him. 

Hunith’s voice sounded broken.  “Please just go away.”

There was so much anger and pain from all of them.

It was all too much.

Merlin shoved himself up onto his feet and was running towards the door before anyone could stop him.  He pulled it open and pounded down the path towards the forest, just wanting to lose himself in the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The moon was high in the sky and as bright and round as the silver pendant Arthur had given him.  Since the pendant bore the Pendragon crest on one side he’d tucked it inside his tunic as soon as they crossed into Essetir and now he could feel it thudding gently against his chest as he ran.

Even when he breached the tree line the bare branches let through enough moonlight to silver the path.  He could hear running feet some way behind and knew Gwaine must be coming after him.  Merlin gulped in mouthfuls of cold air that burned his throat, he didn’t want to be found yet, he needed some time alone.

A deer track crossed the path and he turned left and darted down it.  It wove between oaks and beeches, taking him deep into the forest where the branches crossed more densely above his head and less light penetrated. 

He left the deer track and moved off randomly into the maze of trees, finding his way across the bare earth that lay between the mounds of scrubby undergrowth.  He dropped his pace to a walk, partly so that he could pick his way carefully over fallen branches and around brambles, partly because he’d put enough distance between himself and Gwaine and he didn’t want the other man to know his location by the sound of him crashing through the trees.     

His ragged breathing seemed absurdly loud in the surrounding silence, and he thought Gwaine must be able to find him by that alone, but as he continued to walk through the semi-darkness he could feel his heart beginning to slow its pounding and his breathing gradually quietened too.

He must have lost Gwaine far behind, the forest was quiet of all but its own noises; the creak of trees moving in the wind, the rattle of twigs hitting each other, and occasionally the quick rustling of some small nocturnal creature dashing away from him.

Whenever he’d thought about his mother, his fears had always revolved around the possibility that she might be dead, it had never even occurred to him that she might reject him.

Although he felt sorry for himself, he realised that he couldn’t blame her.  If their situations had been reversed and his mother had died, closely followed by a strange woman who looked like her turning up at his door asking him to just accept her as a replacement…

Now he thought about it in that light he thought he must have been mad to ever think that this world’s Hunith would welcome him with open arms.  All his fantasies of home had revolved about what he wanted, he’d somehow been thinking of himself as the “real” Merlin and he’d never even paused to properly consider that he wasn’t any such thing to this Hunith.

Tears stung his eyes, but they were tears of frustration at his own stupidity.

For a while he wandered aimlessly and let himself cry, no-one would know about it out here alone, and it felt good to release the self-pity and allow it to be washed away.  After a time he found he’d descended into dry sniffles and he wiped his face with his neckerchief and relaxed his tense shoulders.

He realised that he felt a lot better.  He hadn’t thought to grab his jacket before running out of the cottage, so he was starting to shiver now.  Poor Gwaine must be out of his mind with worry, not least because he could imagine Arthur’s reaction if Gwaine went back without him.

Time to turn around and make his way back to the village, he didn’t want to face Hunith again, at least not yet.  Perhaps in time, if she could come to terms with her son’s death, they might be able to strike up some sort of friendship at least.  But he didn’t anticipate that happening soon.

He’d find Gwaine and they could pitch their tent just outside Ealdor for the rest of the night.

He hoped he’d be able to see Gaius again before they left, he guessed that Gaius would want to stay with Hunith through the worst of her grief, but perhaps after that he might think about returning to Camelot now that Muirden was gone. 

He looked around to get his bearings, he’d been so deep in thought while rambling through the forest that he hadn’t spared any attention for which direction he was going in.  He wasn’t particularly worried though, he knew this forest like the back of his hand and had spent much of his childhood racing through it with Will, he was pretty sure he would come across a path or slope or particular tree that would look familiar even in the dark.

The gentle gurgling of a stream came from some distance to his left and he smiled.  There was only one stream in this direction and following it would lead him back towards the village.  Merlin weaved his way through the trees until he saw the shallow, running water trickling like molten silver between dark banks.

It was fairly easy to follow the stream, occasionally he had to detour away from it when trees or brambles grew too close to the edges, but it was never long before he could rejoin it.  Apart from the bitter cold, he was almost enjoying the freedom of being out here alone.

He came to an abrupt stop when he heard voices ahead, at first he thought it must be Gwaine, perhaps he’d roped some villagers in to help him search.  Merlin felt a surge of embarrassment and hoped that wasn’t the case.  But until he was sure Merlin wasn’t going to call out to him.

Through the trees flickered the warm orange light of a fire.  So, not Gwaine then.  Merlin moved forwards quietly intending to circle around the camp unseen and continue on his way.

“You’re not planning on avoiding us, are you?”

The man’s voice right behind him made Merlin physically start and catch his breath.  Before he could turn, he felt the point of a sword poking him in the small of the back.

“Hey, look what I’ve found.”  The man called out, jabbing Merlin in the back to start him walking towards the light.

When they entered the clearing he saw four men sitting around a blazing campfire, their horses tethered nearby.  They must have been camping here for a few days as they’d taken the trouble to build a neat circle of stones around the fire to prevent it from spreading.  A detritus of dirty cooking pots waiting to be washed and piles of animal bones from things they’d hunted littered the clearing.  From the chainmail they wore and the black leather helmets lying on the ground nearby Merlin recognised them as one of Cenred’s patrols.

“It’s amazing what you can find in these woods when you go for a piss.”

Merlin grinned at them and spread his hands wide, doing his best impression of someone stupid but friendly.  “I was out looking for wild roots and I got lost, thank the goddess I’ve found you.  Could you tell me the way to Smaltun?”

None of the men returned his smile.

The man behind him said, “Smaltun’s in the opposite direction to where you were headed.  And it’s a good long walk.”

“I must have gotten turned around in the dark.  Thanks for the directions, I’ll just be on my way.”

The point of the sword jabbed him between the shoulders as he tried to turn, forcing him a few steps closer to the fire.  The men around it were rising slowly to their feet.   

A man with a short, pointed, black beard walked forward to stand in front of him.  “Well done, Matthew. “

“Thank you, Captain Parris,” Merlin could hear the pleased smile in the voice of the man behind him.

Captain Parris drew a black hilted dagger from its sheath at his waist and twisted it thoughtfully between his hands.  “I think you were on your way to Ealdor.  We’ve been told to look out for anyone travelling there.  Apparently Pendragon’s got himself a warlock as a bedmate and the warlock comes from Ealdor.”

“What?  No, never been to the place.”  Merlin’s mind raced.  He couldn’t take on five armed men at once, and besides, as soon as he started using his magic, they’d know for sure who he was.

“I think,” said one of the men with a grin that showed a set of rotten teeth, “our friend here is carrying a message from the warlock to someone in the village.”

“No,” protested Merlin, “you’ve got it all wrong, I just…”

“Search him,” snapped the Captain.

Two of the men moved forward and ran their hands roughly over his body, one of their pawing hands felt the pendant beneath his tunic.  The man reached up and grabbed the neck of tunic, ripping it open to almost to the waist.  Merlin shuddered as the night air hit his chest.

Captain Parris moved forward and lifted the silver pendant in his hand to look at it.  “The Pendragon emblem,” he said in satisfaction.

“He’s not carrying a message though, sir,” said one of the men who’d searched him.

“He must have memorised it,” said Matthew from behind him.

“I haven’t, there’s no message,” said Merlin with no hope they’d believe him.

The Captain nodded slowly.  His dark eyes were cold and held no trace of human feeling.  “King Cenred will want to know what it is, jog his memory.”  He turned away and walked back to the fire as though Merlin was now of no interest.

“How we gonna do this boys?”

“Beat it out of him.”

He felt the sword point drop away from his back and Matthew stepped up close enough that Merlin could feel the heat of his breath against the side of his neck.  “Nah, he’s a pretty boy, let’s at least enjoy ourselves.”

A hand was suddenly thrust between his legs from behind and he felt it grip tightly onto his privates.  Merlin yelped in pain and sudden terror. 

The other men seemed to take that as their cue to close in on him and several hands began to roughly touch him, harshly squeezing at his thighs and reaching inside his tattered tunic to grope around his ribs.  He felt Matthew’s fingers move backwards to slide between his buttocks.

“NO!”  Merlin squirmed, but multiple hands held him immobile.  Damn them finding out who he was, he panicked and lashed out with his magic, sending one of the men flying away from him.  There was a sickening crunch as the man landed on the floor by the fire and his head struck the stones encircling it.

For a moment the hands on him loosened in fear, but then he was held firm again.  Captain Parris was suddenly alert as he leant over to check the fallen man.  “He’s dead,” he said without emotion, then seemed to dismiss the dead man completely as an irrelevance when he stared at Merlin, “but more importantly, we don’t just have a messenger, I think we have the King’s bedmate himself.”

Merlin’s mind raced desperately.  He couldn’t allow himself to be taken as a hostage to Cenred and used as leverage against Arthur.

But on the other hand he’d killed one of Cenred’s men and it would give Cenred the excuse to demand all kinds of recompense from Camelot, and possibly even plunge the two countries into war before Arthur was ready.

Merlin cursed himself for ever going into the forest.

There was an answer of course.  He felt a slithering black presence within him rise in joy as the solution crossed his mind.  He could almost hear it hissing in approval.  He could kill them.

The dark magic writhed in his chest urging him to release it. 

He racked his mind for any other solution…

“Knock him out before he can do anymore damage,” snapped Captain Parris picking up a heavy piece of wood from the pile next to the fire and tossing it to one of the men with their hands on Merlin.  “You can have your fun while he’s unconscious.  And we’ll keep him drugged till we get back to Cenred.”

As the man grinned and raised the makeshift club to hit him Merlin sighed in despair and let the dark magic spin out of him.

Time slowed and became a haze of spurting blood and dismembered limbs. 

At one point Merlin saw Captain Parris slipping quietly away between the trees, and sent the magic bounding out to catch him, but one of the other men got in the way and Merlin was so distracted by the pleasure of ripping off his arms that Parris was forgotten.

At long last he was the only living thing in the clearing apart from the horses.  He turned slowly to look around him, the clearing looked like a slaughterhouse. 

He felt…amazing…

He looked down at himself to see that he was drenched in their blood.  He’d never felt this alive.  He looked up at the stars and they seemed brighter than ever and so close that he could touch them.

The magic wanted more, and pointed him eagerly at the horses.  Merlin flinched and sent a surge of blue fire to cut their tethers and a burst of power slapping against their rumps to send them running off into the forest before he could weaken.   

He relaxed on his back on the forest floor in the midst of the bloody carnage and let himself drift off on a tide of euphoria.


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s awake.”

Gwaine’s voice came from somewhere near his head as he blinked his eyes open.  The sky was a smooth dove grey.  His body ached from lying too long on the hard ground. 

Merlin dimly remembered waking several times before this, but he’d been alone and his thoughts had been jumbled and confused like dreaming while awake. 

Gaius came into view and carefully manoeuvred his old bones to kneel at his side.   “All this blood?  Are you injured?”

Merlin shook his head and as he moved he felt the stiffness of the blood spatters cracking on his skin.  “None of it’s mine.”

“Thank the Gods!”  Gaius felt Merlin’s forehead.  “You’re terribly cold, the fire must have gone out a day ago, but I don’t think you’re in danger from it, you’ll soon warm up. 

Merlin shivered and struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, “A day ago?”  He could see around the clearing now and the havoc that he’d wreaked on Parris’ men.  He gagged slightly and had to swallow against a sudden rise of bile.

“This is the second day since you ran into the forest.”

“You gave me the slip,” said Gwaine with admiration, walking round into view, “I thought you’d gone off in the other direction.  We were searching in completely the wrong place.”

“What happened here?” asked Gaius.

“I was captured by one of Cenred’s patrols.  I used magic to…kill them.”

Gwaine looked around in horrified fascination.  “Well you’re certainly thorough, I’ll give you that.”

“I didn’t mean to…well…not as much as this…I was scared and the dark magic…”

“Dark magic?” said Gaius sharply, “I thought you’d told us at Hunith’s that you were never going to use it again.”

“I wasn’t, I really wasn’t…but then…”

Gwaine made a tight nod that seemed to key Gaius into something he hadn’t noticed so far.  He reached out to touch Merlin’s ripped tunic and frowned when Merlin recoiled.  “My boy, did they…?”

Merlin shook his head emphatically and shuddered, “No, they were going to.  I couldn’t fight all of them off at once, and…I lashed out.”

“Seems to me they got what they deserved,” said Gwaine pragmatically.  “I’m glad it’s winter though, can you imagine all this after two days in midsummer?”

Merlin dry heaved.

Gaius raised a severe eyebrow.  “Do you _ever_ think about what comes out of your mouth, Gwaine, or do you just launch every random thing out of your head with no thought at all.”

Gwaine grinned, totally unabashed.  “Pretty much that actually.” 

Gaius held a waterskin to Merlin’s mouth and he gulped down mouthfuls gratefully.

“What are we going to do about this?”  Gwaine tossed his head at the clearing.

“I’ll organise some men from the village to bury the evidence,“ said Gaius, “you just get Merlin home.”

It didn’t escape Merlin that ‘home’ was no longer Ealdor.

“But Merlin,“ Gaius hugged one arm around his shoulders and lowered the waterskin to peer into his eyes, “You must promise me not to use the dark magic again.  It’s too dangerous.  It will eat away at you from the inside and change you as it changed Muirden and Morgana.”

 

*****************************

 

They parted at the edge of the clearing, Gaius hugging him tightly and promising to come back to Camelot as soon as Hunith was up to him leaving.

Gwaine and Merlin followed the stream until they reached the camp that Gwaine had set up downriver.  Once they’d started the fire, and Merlin had warmed up enough, he braved the cold of the river to wash himself clean and then dried by the fire before dressing in the spare clothes from the leather bag.

Merlin made a fuss of Hreohnes, feeding her a couple of the withered winter apples from their packs.  Then, later that afternoon, they started the journey back to Camelot. 

 

*****************************

 

They were on the long straight road leading up to the castle when they saw the figure galloping towards them, his horse’s hooves sending up a fine cloud of grey dust.

For a moment they both looked at each other anxiously, wondering if it was some messenger on his way to carry bad news.  Then Merlin gave a yelp of surprised pleasure as his squinting eyes saw the man a little more clearly and he kicked his heels into Hreohnes’ sides.  The grey horse responded enthusiastically, sending them careering down the road at a breakneck pace.

The breeze whipped through his hair as he galloped and made his ears ache with cold.  When they were almost upon each other he pulled Hreohnes to a halt and she stopped obediently to let him leap off her back onto the ground.

The other horseman did likewise and they ran across the distance separating them to bury themselves in each other’s arms.

After a long few moments, Arthur eventually let him go and pushed him back at arm’s length to look at him.

“Thank the Goddess I gave you that horse, or you’d have been lying in front of me with a broken neck after that gallop,” grinned Arthur.

“I agree that she enhances my natural riding skills,” grinned Merlin, “but I’d never have fallen off any horse before getting you in my arms again.”

Arthur shoved him roughly in the shoulder.

Merlin knew it was a show of affection, but they were free to express it in other and better ways now.  He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows.  Arthur shrugged wryly, as if to say, old habits die hard, before grabbing him again and dragging him close to kiss him deeply.

By the time they separated again Gwaine had halted his bay beside them.  He looked amused.  “So you’ve had a sentry anxiously watching the road for his return ever since he left?”

Arthur flushed, “Don’t be ridiculous.  No, of course I haven’t.”

Merlin threw Gwaine a warning scowl and Gwaine backed off, smirking.  But not before mischievously muttering, just loud enough for Arthur to hear, “well, who knew the Pendragons had the second sight.”


	5. Chapter 5

The moon was waning now and hung in a thick milky crescent with its horns pointing to the right.  The sky was crisp and clear, the multitude of stars glimmering like chips of glass cast out across a lake of black ice.  From the battlements of the castle he could see across the roofs of the town and out to the countryside beyond.

Merlin was racked by shivers, he should have put his new cloak on before coming up onto the tower, but the restlessness had suddenly hit him with unbearable strength and he just needed to roll out of bed and get away.

His hands scratched against the crenel that he stood at, and tiny fragments of stone dust broke away under his fingernails

They’d been discussing the marriage today.  As soon as he’d returned from Ealdor he’d told Arthur everything that had happened, thinking that Arthur might want to hold things back until he was sure that Merlin’s dark magic wasn’t a danger to everyone around him.  Bizarrely, in the days that followed, apart from the implications to their uneasy truce with Essetir if the bodies were found, Arthur hadn’t seemed to blink an eye and certainly didn’t seem to feel that it should affect the preparations for their handfasting.

The nightmare that had woken him still haunted him vividly and he felt gooseflesh rise all over his body; they’d been in the Great Hall, Arthur was gazing down at their joined hands, while a druid gently wrapped the fourth cord around them.

Then he’d felt the dark magic rising and was powerless to stop it.

As it sometimes is in dreams, there seemed to be no noise at all, and everything was deathly silent.

He’d tried to pull away and run but the cords only let him move a step before tangling.  Arthur was startled by his sudden movement, but already smiling as he looked up at Merlin.  Then the smile had faltered as he’d looked down in sudden confusion at his own chest.  There was long pause where Merlin held his breath in terror, and then scarlet burst across the front of Arthur’s white handfasting robe like an opening poppy.  Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin’s again.  Merlin saw bewilderment in them, and betrayal… 

Merlin shook his head violently, trying to force the dream away, then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as though he could knead away the images by force. 

A sharp click behind him brought him back to reality and alerted him to the tower door opening.  He swung round, and dropped his hands, to see Arthur ducking through the low stone doorway and stepping out onto the battlements.

Arthur had thrown on a white nightshirt and a pair of trousers under a warm cloak, the similar cloak that he’d had made for Merlin was draped over one arm.

“Hey,” Arthur came up to him and swung Merlin’s cloak around Merlin’s shuddering shoulders, “trust you to come up here half-dressed and bare foot in the middle of winter.”

Merlin clutched the fur-lined black fabric gratefully around himself, then through chattering teeth said, “You must think I’m mad.”

“Not more than usual.  Bad dream?”

He let out a shaky laugh that sounded slightly unhinged even to his own ears.  “You could say that.”

Arthur took his hand and led him back over to the far wall.  His own fur-lined cloak spread around him like a puddle of Pendragon red as he sat down on the flagstones with the low crenelated wall at his back.  Arthur shook his head and frowned as Merlin began to tremble again, his gaze fixed on the red cloak.

He tugged Merlin down to sit beside him and then wrapped the sides of his own cloak and the far side of Merlin’s cloak around them both, so they were both sitting snugly.

Merlin pulled his knees up close to his chest so that his feet were tucked within the cloaks, his toes scrunching against the incredible softness of the rabbit fur and starting to warm up.

They sat silently for a few minutes, just looking at the night sky that rose above them in a glittering bowl.

“So,” said Arthur decisively, “I’ve been thinking about this dark magic.”

His lower lip suddenly burst with pain and Merlin realised that he’d been chewing it nervously.  “And?”

“You once told me that magic wasn’t evil in itself, that it was just a tool, like a sword.  It was how you used it that made it good or bad.”

He had said that, it must seem as though he’d been deliberately lying now that the dark magic issue had raised its head.  Merlin almost pulled away, but Arthur’s arm around his shoulders tightened its grip; gentle but firm, refusing to release him.

“So, my thinking is, that this ‘dark’ magic is just the same.”

“But Gaius warned me that this type of magic is different…dangerous…that it warped Muirden and Morgana.”  Merlin swallowed.  He had to tell Arthur, even if Arthur rejected him.  And perhaps that would be the best thing.  If Arthur loathed and feared him, then at least he would be safe.  Merlin could go away…somewhere…  He voiced his deepest fear, “I think it’s changing me, I think I’m becoming like them.  I’m going to kill people and not care…I’m going to kill _you_ and not care…”

Arthur snorted with laughter, “Oh don’t be ridiculous.”

Merlin’s head snapped up and he felt slightly offended.  Then it dawned on him that he was feeling piqued because Arthur didn’t think he could possibly be a cold-blooded killer, and found himself smiling at the absurdity.  “You don’t think it’s a little arrogant to think you know more about magic than me or Gaius?”

“A King needs a certain amount of arrogance or you’ll spend your whole reign dithering over what to do.”

“Well, at least you’ll have no problems there then.”

Arthur smiled to see Merlin getting his sense of humour back.  “No,” said Arthur confidently, “seeing his parents burn was what turned Muirden evil.  And Morgana was corrupted by ambition and spite; if she’d never had any magic she’d still have been pursuing the same ends, just with poison and blades.”

“But what I did to Cenred’s patrol…”

“When you first used magic, could you do everything straight away, or did you have to practise?”

“I told you this,” frowned Merlin, “I had to practise, still do, I haven’t mastered a lot of things yet.  Before making the snakes come alive on Valiant’s shield I spent all night trying the spell on a stone dog.”

“And you made the dog come alive?”  He must have forgotten to mention that to Arthur, as Arthur’s eyes widened, “that’s amazing.”

Merlin smirked, “not totally, it was a horrible dog, it tried to bite me.”

A bat swooped by and they paused to watch its ragged black shadow flit gracefully in front of the stars.  Arthur’s body was comfortable against his side, and he moved his feet sideways to tuck his toes into the warmth under Arthur’s thigh.

“Some years back a young lad called Aidan was sent to Camelot by his father, Sir Huw, to be a knight…”

“Is this relevant?”

“Do shut up, Merlin!”  Arthur waited for Merlin to reluctantly close his mouth.  “Aidan’s father was harsher than Uther when it came to his son, and Aidan had grown up forbidden to express any sort of rebellion or disagreement.” 

“I know how he feels.”

Arthur ignored Merlin’s mutter and continued, “whenever he felt anger at his father he had to push it down inside himself, or Huw would beat it out of him.  So, when he came to Camelot, for the first time he suddenly found himself in a situation where he could let the anger out.”

Merlin was interested now, “What happened?”

“He couldn’t handle it.  Some little thing would happen, someone insulting him, or an unfair blow on the training field, and Aidan would explode out of all proportion.  It came to a head when Sir Llyon dealt him a low blow while they were sparring and Aidan completely went for him with his sword, actually tried to kill him.  It took four of us to pull him off.  Afterwards Aidan claimed it wasn’t his fault, said the anger had taken him over, talked as though he had no control over it and never could have.  As though it was a thing separate from himself.”

“Like the dark magic.’

“Exactly.  I think the dark magic is like anger, you need to have it inside yourself, you need it to be whole.  Righteous anger is what fights injustice and helps you to stand up for yourself.”

Merlin felt a surge of hope; he desperately wanted to believe him.  Then his heart sank.  “But when I killed those men, I felt…joy.”

“When I’m on the battlefield, I hate killing people but there’s a fierce kind of joy to it.  You’ll find most knights say that when they’re in the thick of battle, there’s a sort of…rush of exhilaration…that sweeps over you.  It doesn’t mean you’re pleased to be killing…” Arthur reflected thoughtfully, “… it’s more a mix of excitement, relief that you’re still alive, and pleasure at your own skill.”

“You really think that I need to accept the dark magic as part of me and learn to use it?”

“I do.  You wouldn’t want to go your whole life without being able to feel anger.  This is the same thing.  You just need to learn to use it in proportion.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

Arthur grinned, “Now that is where I come in.  If there’s one thing I know about then it’s training someone to use a weapon and focus their anger.”

The skepticism was evident in Merlin’s voice, “ _You’re_ going to train me to use magic?”

“We’ll have a tough training regime of course, work up in small stages, as I do with the knights,” Arthur was warming to his theme now and his eyes were glittering with enthusiasm in the moonlight, “we’ll start you off with smaller attacks…”

Merlin felt better than he had ever since the night of Morgana’s death, he had a genuine feeling that things were going to be alright.  Then he thought of the weeks ahead of him and suddenly sighed, “Oh Gods, you’re going to be a totally overbearing arse about this training, aren’t you?”

Arthur grinned broadly, “Oh yes!”


	6. Chapter 6

The morning was a long one as Arthur insisted that Merlin sit at his side during the council meeting.  After four hours of listening to the problems with the grain stores, (surge in the rat population), and whether  the new housing in the lower town should be built to the east or the west of the market place, (east would put a strain on the existing network of water pumps and wells, west would mean more horse, cart and foot traffic along narrow streets that were already overcrowded and in need of repair), Merlin almost wished he could be off doing his usual job of cleaning Arthur’s room.

Finally the meeting broke up, and the knights and councilors made their goodbyes and drifted out of the large chamber leaving them alone.

The light from the leaded windows fell in milky diamonds across the dark oak of the long table and in the fireplace one of the logs crackled and spat. 

“Still awake?”  Arthur rolled his head and flexed his shoulders back.

“Just about.”  Merlin reached across to pour them both a goblet of watered wine.  It was still a wonderful novelty to sit beside Arthur in the castle and serve them both from the same jug.  “It isn’t that the issues aren’t interesting or important, it’s just that everyone talks about them until they’ve discussed the problem completely.  And then, just when it’s time to make a decision, someone will chime in with an argument that was already made right at the beginning of the discussion and everyone says all the same things again.”

“That just about sums it up.”

“Can’t you just hear the arguments once and then make a decision?”

“It’s important to give the appearance that everything has been fully debated, or you end up with a discontented council.”

“Does that matter?”

“Well, if you want them to willingly carry out the plans that you’ve finally decided, rather than half-heartedly sabotaging them just to prove they were right, then yes.”

“They’d do that?”

“Oh yes, some of them can be very petty.  After the coronation, once you’ve been officially crowned beside me as consort, then we can start splitting these meetings between us.”

His throat felt suddenly dry and Merlin took a gulp of wine.  It would be nice to be able to take some of the burden from Arthur’s shoulders, but the idea of heading one of these meetings was frightening. 

Arthur kicked his foot, “Relax, I won’t drop you in it alone straight away.”

“Will they even listen to me?”

Arthur’s eyes flashed dangerously.  “They will if they want to stay on the council.”  His expression softened, “So, what did you think of the plans for the lower town?”

“I don’t know anything about…” Merlin trailed off uncomfortably under his scrutiny,

Arthur’s brows drew together and his voice lowered to an authoritative growl that both reminded Merlin that he was the King and also made his stomach do enjoyable little flips, “What did you think?”

“Well, Gaius has said before that the western side is starting to become a breeding ground for disease because it’s so overcrowded and the streets are getting clogged with sewage and rubbish.  I wonder if it’s time to start pulling that whole area down and rebuilding it better and larger, with wider streets and a better sewage system.” 

“And the people who live there?”

“We’ve got all those battle tents that house your army on campaign, house the families temporarily in those, and let them know that they will be moving back into the nicer houses and shops that replace their own.”

Arthur nodded, but his smile was apologetic, “It’s a nice idea, but who is going to pay for all this rebuilding, the crown coffers aren’t boundless, and the inhabitants of that area certainly haven’t got the money.”

“Well,” Merlin wondered whether he was making a total fool of himself, but he’d had time during the endless circular discussions to let his thoughts wander around the problem, “when nobles visit Court from their estates around the country, they usually stay in taverns.”

“Yes.”

“So, in the middle of that area, you say you are going to build a wonderful square, with…I don’t know, a big fountain, and trees and, a pillared walkway or something, “

He took courage from Arthur’s nod, at least he wasn’t laughing at him.

“Then around the square are going to be the most beautiful town houses that anyone has ever seen.”

“Go on.”

Merlin swallowed, then plunged on, “Then you say that nobles can buy these houses before they are built, providing they provide the money to renovate one of the streets running off from the square.”

“They buy a second house in Camelot itself.”

“Yes,” said Merlin, leaning forward and allowing hint of his enthusiasm to start seeping into his voice, “They’d be competing against each other to say that they were one of the nobles owning houses round the square.”

“And owning an expensive residence here would help cement their feelings of loyalty to Camelot,“ said Arthur wonderingly.

“And making their street the nicest would probably be a matter of pride and a way to show off.”

“So we renovate and expand a whole area, improving the living conditions for the people…”

“And other people fight to be the ones to pay for it.”

Arthur leaned back in his chair and stared at Merlin as though he was seeing him for the first time.  “Thank the Gods your brain is on my side.  I don’t think I need to give you time to catch up with the Council, I think I need to give the Council time to catch up with you.”

 

*****************************

 

After they’d eaten they visited the training fields to watch Leon supervising the knights.  Arthur was unable to resist grabbing up a sword from the rack and charging across the field to demonstrate a particular move himself.  

There was a new batch of young men aspiring to the knighthood now that Arthur had opened the eligibility to those not of noble blood.  Also the first young woman to try to join, her long brown hair wound out of her way in tight plaits across the top of her head.

“If Morgana and Morgause could lead an army, and defeat men with a sword, then I think they’ve proved that women can be perfectly capable knights as well.” Arthur had said to Merlin one night in bed before introducing the legislation the next day. 

Merlin leaned on the fence and watched his lover sparring against the young recruits and encouraging them to do better.  Leon was trying his best not to hover like a mother hen, worried that Arthur was sparring without chainmail, but Merlin didn’t feel anxious; Arthur was all fluid moves and glittering sword, the lumbering new recruits in their chainmail never stood a chance of landing a blow on him. 

After an hour Arthur walked sweating and grinning from the field, his hair gleaming in the Winter sun, and his cheeks flushed from exercise.  Merlin saw the adoring glances of the new recruits following him as though he’d just hung the sun in place.

Leon just looked relieved.

“I enjoyed that,” laughed Arthur.

“You should make time to take the training at least once a week, it’d be good for morale.”

“Theirs or mine?”

Merlin grinned, “both.  But wear chainmail next time or Leon will end up having a heart seizure.” 

Now that they were walking again, Arthur turned his feet to the narrow path leading towards the back of the castle. 

Merlin was perplexed, “Where are we going anyway?”

In front of them the path widened as it joined the rough cart track leading from the other side of the castle, at the end of the track lay a large square area of trampled ground, with chickens roaming across it pecking at the dirt.   Arthur pointed at the row of massive square buildings that sat about knee height off the ground on thick brick built stilts.  The buildings had low pitched roofs, and each had a single door with wooden steps leading up to it, there were no windows.

“The granaries?  Why?”

Arthur thumped an encouraging hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “You, dear one, are going rat hunting.” 

“What?”  Merlin trotted behind Arthur across the square, chickens running clucking out of their path.

Arthur came to a halt in front of one of the buildings and his hand slapped the rough wattle and daub wall.  “We need to start training your dark magic.  The grain stores have an infestation of rats.  Two birds, one stone, you know the saying.”

“I hate hunting.”

“This isn’t about killing nice, cuddly creatures with big eyes, which, may I remind you, you are more than happy to eat when someone else kills them.  This is about killing vicious, flea-ridden, plague-carrying vermin that are decimating the town’s grain stores and spreading disease whenever they run over the wheat.”

“How is sending me into the dark with a load of rats any sort of training?”

“Trust me.”  Then, when Merlin still hesitated, Arthur gave him a shove between the shoulder blades. “Go on then.” 

“Stop it!”  Merlin’s voice came out as a panicked squeak.  He looked up at the door, and wondered how dark it would be in a building of that size with no windows, and how many rats might be running about inside.  “In there?”

“You’re probably better off tackling the ones living under the building to being with,” said Arthur briskly, “that way, if you’re a bit sloppy with the magic, you won’t be splattering them all over the wheat.”

Merlin blanched, “That’s disgusting.”  He looked at the dark space beneath the building, imagining the mouths twitching with gnawing teeth and the long, naked tails.  “You want me to crawl under there?”

“Well, they won’t scamper out here to meet you, Merlin.”

Reluctantly he sank down onto hands and knees and peered between the brick stilts.  About a foot in from the edge it was totally dark.  He thought he could hear the noise of thin claws rasping across hard packed dirt, but it might have been just the nearby chickens.

“Come on, Merlin, we don’t have all day.  The goldsmith’s coming before dinner to show us the rings for our handfasting.”

“He is?”  Merlin broke into a smile, then remembered what he was about to do and the smile morphed into a scowl, “He might not be needed.  I probably won’t have any fingers left by the time I get out again.”

“Don’t exaggerate,” said Arthur, one booted foot kicking him lightly on the arse to get him crawling forwards. 

Merlin edged under the building.  The ground was dry and gritty and scattered with tiny stones.  He had to shuffle forward slowly, letting each knee or hand test the ground before resting his weight on it in order to avoid pressing a sharp pebble into his knees or palms.  His eyes blinked wildly as he tried to see in the darkness.

Arthur had the grace to sound slightly apologetic, “But try not to make one feel cornered, just in case it attacks.”

Merlin gritted his teeth.

He was fully under the building now and he couldn’t see a thing.  He supposed he could cast a sphere of light but part of him didn’t actually want to see what he was under here with.  It occurred to him the space was probably crawling with spiders too, he’d never been keen on them either.

“Are you doing anything under there?”

Merlin ignored him.

He took a deep breath and reached down for the dark magic.  It came more reluctantly this time, perhaps reacting to his own lack of enthusiasm.  He sent it out, and it slithered rather than bounded out of him this time.  He closed his eyes, he couldn’t see anything under here anyway, and let himself feel his way through the magic.

It twisted across the earth and suddenly came in contact with a whirl of biting teeth and claws, there was a sudden harsh squeal and then Merlin felt liquid spatter across the back of his hand and up his cheek.  He yelped.

“I heard you get one, well done, Merlin.  Now go for another.  If it makes you feel better, remember if you don’t do this then they’ll send the ratting terriers under here to kill them, and the poor dogs can get terribly mauled.  Some of those rats under there can be bloody massive…”  There was a beat, “…sorry, probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“Of all the arrogant, donkey-brained, bullying…”

“I can hear you, you know.”

Merlin snapped his mouth shut and sent the dark magic out again. 

Several rats later, and one incredibly unpleasant incident when he moved to one side and accidentally set his hand down in something warm, wet and squishy, Arthur finally agreed it was time for him crawl out again.

Merlin emerged blinking into the light, and his back ached as he stood upright again.  He caught Arthur looking at his hand and glanced down to see that it was dripping with some sort of red slop.  Merlin gave a small scream of horror and wiped it off on his trouser leg.

Arthur grinned at him broadly, “Well done!”

“I don’t know what it achieved,“ shuddered Merlin resentfully.

“You were worried that the dark magic was addictive.  How do you feel about it now, do you want to go back under there and have another play with it?”

“Oh Gods, please no.”  Merlin looked at him desperately, hoping they were finished for the day.

Arthur looked at him and waited for the key to turn.

Merlin’s eyes widened.   “Oh…” 

“You can use this power, and then stop, you control it, not the other way round.”  Arthur punched his shoulder, “You did well under there. Let’s go back inside, the jeweler should be arriving anytime now.”

They started off back across the square and towards the path.  Arthur looked across at him.  “Oh, and Merlin.”

Merlin looked up as Arthur tossed him his handkerchief.  Merlin caught it out of the air, and Arthur rubbed one finger at his own cheek and rolled his eyes meaningfully at Merlin.  “You might want to…wipe your face…you’ve got a bit of…rodent there.”

Merlin’s hissing exclamations and hopping from foot to foot as he frantically cleaned his face weren’t at all funny.  Merlin could only think sourly that Arthur’s sense of humour had been horribly warped by exposure to the battlefield.

Arthur was still chuckling as he threw his arm around Merlin’s shoulders and tugged him close as they walked.  “I’m proud of you, you did well.”

The warmth of pleasure that surged through him was so intense as to be embarrassing.   


	7. Chapter 7

Before he could join Arthur to meet with the goldsmith, Merlin had to wash away the aftermath of the rat-hunting and change into clean trousers and a soft blue tunic.  Despite Arthur’s best attempts to break him of the habit, he tied a faded red neckerchief around his neck; with all the radical change that was going on around him the familiarity of the neckerchief felt comforting.  The silver pendant was another thing that seemed to reassure him and he wore it as always in the centre of his chest, a physical reminder of Arthur’s faith in him. 

When he opened the door to the small ante-room off the main hall Arthur was already sitting opposite the goldsmith examining his wares.

“Ah, and here’s the young man in question now,” said the goldsmith, rising to his feet and bowing low enough that Merlin could see the shiny bald pate in the centre of his ring of grey hair.  “Matias at your service, Sir.”  Merlin made an embarrassed flapping gesture of his hand to motion him back to his seat, and came to sit by Arthur.  

Matias’ leather carrying pouch was unrolled across the table and Merlin looked at the contents with fascination.  The man was obviously an expert at his craft, the brooches and rings on display were exquisitely made, many of them glittering with gems or detailed enameling. 

A brooch in the shape of a running hare caught his attention, and he picked it up so he could look more closely at the tiny citrine eye and the miniscule gold wires that wove in a Celtic design through the nut brown enameling.  “This is beautiful work.”

Matias flushed happily, his apple cheeks turning even ruddier under the praise.  “You’re very kind, sir, and you’ve a good eye if you don’t mind me saying, that’s one of my more unusual pieces.”

Merlin replaced the hare as Matias’ plump fingers untied a small pocket to one side of the pouch.  He pulled out a parcel of cream silk and unwrapped it to display two rings.  Arthur reached across to pick them up, turning them in his fingers to scrutinise them closely, he nodded approvingly as he passed the rings to Merlin.

The rings were identical save that Merlin’s was slightly smaller to fit his more slender finger.  They were simple and masculine; a wide band of yellow gold with a slim band of white gold running down the centre.

Arthur quirked his eyebrows in query.

“They’re perfect,” said Merlin honestly. 

Arthur seemed to have been holding his breath, as he suddenly relaxed and nodded.  “We’ll take them, Matias, thank you.”  Then interrupted Matias before he could roll the pouch closed, “oh, and the hare too.”

Merlin shook his head, “I didn’t mean…”

Arthur pressed the brooch into his hand, “I haven’t given you much over the years, humour me.”  Then to Matias, “How are the crowns coming along, will they be ready for the coronation?”

“Definitely, Sire.  And, I don’t like to blow my own trumpet, but I think they are the more beautiful things I’ve ever made.”

“Then they should be lovely indeed.”

Matias beamed and left them.

“Crowns?” said Merlin suspiciously.

Arthur poured himself a cup of water.  “Well, yours is more of a circlet, but the consort needs something.”

“Well if it’s as understated as the ring then I’ll be more than happy.”

The water must have gone down the wrong way as Arthur began to cough and Merlin had to rise and thump him a couple of times between the shoulder blades before it subsided.


	8. Chapter 8

The weeks until the handfasting passed in a blur of council meetings and magic training sessions.

Arthur put Merlin’s housing scheme to the council who seemed in favour of any scheme which involved them not having to vote money into it.  A rather stunned Merlin found himself put in charge of the planning.

The afternoons were mainly spent using dark magic to clear the granaries of rats, Merlin’s focus swiftly improving until he could stand beside Arthur and send the magic beneath or within the granary buildings to kill the rats quietly and cleanly, with no blood or drama.  The rats would be scurrying along one minute, only to keel silently over onto their sides in the next, without even a chance to be afraid or realise what was happening to them.  Merlin couldn’t help but feel that the power was unnerving, thinking how easy it would be to assassinate a human in the same way.

“Yes, but remember I know you.  You would never use it that way,” said Arthur dismissively.

Not under any normal circumstances, thought Merlin grimly, but if someone hurt you, then what would I be driven to? 

The moral dubiousness of the dark magic was far from his mind this morning though.  The sky was as brittle and blue as a robin’s egg and Merlin had walked down to the west of the lower town.

Now, as he picked his way between the ramshackle housing, through narrow backstreets thick with rotten vegetables and household waste, he thought that this was a plan that could really make a difference to people’s lives if it was carried through by someone who cared about them and wasn’t open to bribery and corruption. 

He had a small length of parchment and a pen and bottle of ink in the pouch at his belt.  Needless to say the slums had never drawn the interest of any scholars to map them before.  The next time he saw a tavern he had plans to dart inside and use one of the rough tables to begin making a plan of the current street layout. 

The streets were busy with people, but several times on the walk his neck prickled as though he were being watched.

Once he turned quickly and thought he saw a figure in dark clothing watching him from a doorway, but then an old man pushing a cart full of rags walked between them, and by the time the cart had passed, there was no-one to be seen and he uneasily put it down to his imagination.

The street widened in front of him and a bustle of carts and stalls had taken advantage of the rare, relatively open, space to sell all manner of cheap goods and foods.  The air was noisy with vendors’ cries and the conversation of people hurrying through.  The wealthier of the customers were carrying baskets, the poorer had just a penny clutched in their fists to buy a pie or loaf of coarse bread.

A pie seller shoved through the throng with a tray hung around his neck, the odour made Merlin’s stomach rumble, even though he knew the pies were probably mainly comprised half of rat and half of all the random parts of a pig that you didn’t really want to hear about.  They did smell good though, and he was wondering whether he might buy one regardless.  He’d eaten far worse while living with Gaius.

“Oi!  You little…”

The gruff cry startled him just as something small and bony thumped into his stomach and knocked the breath from him.  He caught hold of the missile instinctively, only to look down and realise that he was gripping the arms of a wriggling, grimy child.

“Hold him fast, the little sod just stole an apple.”

A thin woman in a grey dress and grimy apron ran over.  She tried to wrench the urchin from Merlin’s grip but Merlin resisted instinctively.

He crouched to the child’s level, and only then could see that it was a boy under the mop of dirty brown hair.  “Did you just steal from this lady?”

“Never did!”  Since the wrinkled fruit in question suddenly dropped with a plop from his hand into the mud behind his foot, it was obviously a lie.

“I’ll have him in gaol for that.”

Merlin straightened up, “I don’t think that’s necessary.  How much for the apple?”

The woman stared at him, and Merlin knew she was appraising the worth of his tunic.

“Two pennies.”

It was exorbitant.

“A ha’penny.”  And Merlin knew he was ridiculously over-paying her with that.

The woman snatched the coin from his fingers, then plucked the apple from the mud and stomped back to her stall rubbing off the dirt to re-sell it.

Merlin crouched again.  “What’s your name?”

Two intense blue eyes glared at him from under fierce brows, “Bryn.”

“Are you hungry, Bryn?”

The boy looked at him, as though expecting a clout around the head or to be laughed at.

Merlin pulled another penny from his pouch and held it out to Bran, “Here, go buy yourself a pie.”

Bryn stared at him for a moment, then wrenched himself out of Merlin’s grip, grabbed the penny with desperate claw-like fingers, gave him a painful kick in the shin, and went darting off down the street before Merlin could react.  Merlin rubbed his leg ruefully, and then broke into laughter.   

A few buildings away a faded sign swung above the street advertising the Swan Inn, Merlin pushed through the creaking door and entered the low, shadowy interior.  He found himself a seat near the small grimy window, ordered an ale, and unrolled his parchment to begin a drawing of the streets he’d navigated so far. 


	9. Chapter 9

The morning before the handfasting ceremony, Gaius returned to Camelot.

Merlin went down to the physician’s chambers to find him pottering about, tutting loudly, and arranging everything back to how it had been before Muirden.

The room still had a faint, bitter tang of smoke that caught in the back of the throat, even though the door had been left wide open ever since the fire.

Gaius looked up to see Merlin hovering uncertainly in the doorway.  His open arms pulled Merlin forwards like a magnet until he was clutched in a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re back in time for the handfasting, Gaius.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, my boy,”

Gaius pushed him back to arms’ length to look at him critically.  “You look well, there’s a definite glow of health about you.”

Merlin flushed and ducked his head. “I’m so happy, Gaius.  It’s hard to even describe.”

“You deserve it more than anyone.”  Gaius pulled him down and gave him a fatherly kiss; his lips were soft and papery as dry leaves against Merlin’s cheek.

“How is my..?”  Merlin’s voice caught.  “I mean…Hunith..?”

“She’s well, all things considered.  After you left she took to her bed for a few days and wouldn’t get up.  Then one day she seemed to suddenly set her jaw, fling off the blankets and was bustling about the way she always used to.  She’s been a little quiet, but she’s a strong lady.”

Merlin smiled wanly and Gaius guessed what was on his mind.  “The handfasting is a little too soon, she isn’t ready yet.  But she did mention that she wants to come to the coronation.  She’d like to get to know you, Merlin.”

Merlin found it hard to speak, but his eyes were glistening as he nodded.

Gaius coughed to clear his throat and went back to briskly wiping the traces of soot from the jars of salve and putting them back on the shelf.  He picked up a spare cloth and threw it to Merlin, “Come on, if you’re here you can make yourself useful.”

“You do realise I’m going to be royalty?” teased Merlin.

“Well, let’s hope it improves your cleaning skills, because nothing else seemed to.”

Merlin set to with the dusting cloth on the shelf next to him. 

“I’ll have to put some poison down for the mice,” said Gaius, making conversation as he moved a leather book with a badly chewed leather binding, “while no-one was living here they decided to take the place over.”

Merlin caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye and saw one of the little beasts in question scurrying along the floor by the wall.  Without thinking about it he flicked the dark magic out and the grey streak froze and keeled over.

A crash of shattering glass right beside his feet made him jump backwards, eyes startled wide.

Gaius stepped towards him, ignoring the salve jar that crunched beneath his shoes, and grabbed Merlin’s upper arms in a fierce grip.  “What have you done?”

“What?  Nothing!  What? ”

The grip didn’t let up and Gaius shook him roughly.  “Your eyes were glowing red, you silly boy, what have you done?”

“I’ve not been a _boy_ for a long time, Gaius!”

“ _That’s_ what you fix on?  When you’re killing yourself with dark magic.”

“I’m doing no such…”

“What’s going on?”  Arthur’s voice was hard and sharp from the doorway.

Merlin craned his neck round to see him glowering at them.

Gaius seemed to retreat into himself and released Merlin’s arms.  “It’s between myself and Merlin.”

“I killed a mouse.”

Arthur walked slowly into the room, “I’d have thought you’d be glad to be rid of one, Gaius.”

Gaius glowered at Merlin, and his voice was tightly polite, “indeed, Sire.”

Arthur’s raised his eyebrows at Merlin.

“I used the dark magic,” supplied Merlin.

Arthur relaxed, “And you got it?  A target that tiny?  Well done.”

Merlin smiled at the compliment, almost forgetting Gaius for a moment.

“You _knew_ he’s been practising dark magic?” Gaius’ voice was dangerously quiet.

“Of course,” said Arthur, “I’ve been training him, over the past couple of weeks he’s really…”

“You blind, arrogant fool,” spat Gaius stalking towards him. 

Surprise made Arthur reel back slightly, Gaius had never spoken to him that way, and the force of his anger was almost like a slap to the face.  Then Arthur’s pride took over and he straightened up, his spine rigid and an icy coldness spreading behind his blue eyes.  “I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”

“My apologies, Sire.”  Gaius’s voice dripped acid.  “Indeed I’m not, you’re Uther’s son, and like Uther you’re willing to use dark magic to gamble with the life of the one you love.”

Merlin darted between them, he didn’t think Arthur would strike Gaius, but if he did, Merlin would find it hard to blame him.  He said softly, “that’s a wicked thing to say, Gaius.”

Gaius and Arthur locked gazes across Merlin’s shoulder for a long moment, and Gaius was the first to drop his eyes, he had the grace to look a little abashed.  “I’m sorry.  Arthur, I went too far.”

Arthur relaxed marginally, “I appreciate your concern for Merlin, but believe me, I would never put him in danger.”

“But you have,” sighed Gaius, sinking wearily into a nearby wooden chair.

“You said it yourself, when you saw me, I’m looking well,” said Merlin.

“We haven’t been doing anything appalling with it, just freeing the granaries of a rat infestation.” 

“It's not what you use it for, it’s that you’re using it at all.  Tell me Merlin, before you started freeing the granaries of rats, how were you feeling?  Unsettled?  Restless?  Sleepless nights and horrible dreams?”

Merlin glanced at Arthur and shifted uneasily.  “Yes.”

“If you’d just left it alone, then those symptoms would have faded, but now… “  Gaius focused on Arthur, but his expression was sad now, rather than angry.  “…now you, because you always have to know better than anyone else, have been encouraging him to get well and truly addicted.”

All the blood had left Arthur’s face, and Merlin wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear.

“I don’t believe you’re right, I think that once he’d released it on Morgana, then it was trying to bottle it back up inside that was making him ill.”

Gaius sighed, “I sincerely hope you’re right.  Well, I suppose we shall see, won’t we?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur reminded Merlin of a graceful figure from a tapestry as he stood by the leaded window looking out into the night.  His face was beautiful in its serenity, his full lips turned rosy and his blonde hair gilded by the warm candlelight.  Over his long white robe the fur-lined cloak swept down to his bare feet in a graceful swirl of red.

For a few long moments Merlin watched him from the doorway, unwilling to break the picture.  His breath caught as he realised that in just a scant hour or so this beautiful man would be handfasted to him.

Arthur must have sensed his presence, as he turned then, and his lips broke into a smile.  “You’re back.”

“Nothing gets past you.”

Arthur snorted and walked over to collect the black cloak from the bed, settling it around Merlin’s bony shoulders.  “You should keep this on, these white robes are thin and the castle’s cold.”

“I was only gone for a minute.  Anyway, it’s my feet that are getting cold, nothing else.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I’ll marry you, but I refuse to rub your dirty feet.”

Merlin smirked, “I bet you would if I asked.”

“By all means try asking one day when you’re feeling particularly brave”

“They’ll be ready for us any time now.”  Merlin’s expressions suddenly fell, and he stared at the floor, biting his lower lip.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  It really isn’t too late to call it off.”

A firm hand under Merlin’s chin tilted up his face so that he was looking Arthur in the eyes again, the depth of emotion he saw there was almost frightening in its intensity.  “The love I have for you has, quite literally, crossed universes.  I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The fingers of Merlin’s right hand moved to press Arthur’s robe against the spot beneath his ribs where Mordred’s sword had entered his body in the other world, then drifted up to trace the fine silver scar across Arthur’s throat.  He felt Arthur’s Adam’s apple move beneath his fingertips, his life was so frighteningly fragile that Merlin’s voice caught in his throat.  “I’ve been so close to losing you.”

“But you haven’t,” said Arthur.  He frowned, “I hope Gaius isn’t right, and I haven’t been harming you by making you use the dark magic.”

“You didn’t make me.  You know me; I would have refused if I thought you were wrong.”

“Would you though?  Sometimes knowing what you would sacrifice for me scares me a little.  What if, in the end, I’m not worthy of it?”

“You don’t have to _do_ anything to be worthy of it, you just have to _be_.”

“Well, I plan on ‘being’ for as long as possible.  Until we are both grey haired and witless…although, of course, you’ve got a head-start on me there.”

Merlin laughed and shoved Arthur in the chest.

At that moment there was a knock on the door, and Leon’s voice called that the knights were ready to escort them.

Arthur took a deep breath, then murmured, “here we go.”

“Please try and make it sound less like you’re going into battle,” muttered Merlin.  And Arthur was still chuckling as they left the room and started down the stairs.

The preparations for the handfasting ceremony had been arranged on a grassy area just outside the castle walls.  Arthur and Merlin rode the small distance there on Hengroen and Hreohnes, surrounded by the knights.  As they got closer he could see the flicker of a bonfire sending up red sparks into the night sky, and the orange light of dozens of torches.  People were already waiting for them there, quite a lot of people, he couldn’t see them properly, just their silhouettes as they moved in front of the bonfire or glimpses of them as they moved near the torches.

As they reached the edge of the shadowy crowds Lancelot came over to take the reins of Hreohnes and help Merlin to the ground.  Normally help wouldn’t be needed, but since he was restricted by the robe and cloak, and barefoot, Merlin wasn’t too proud to take a hand where it was offered rather than find himself falling flat on his face.

Lancelot beamed at him, keeping hold of his hand to lead him forward, the crowd melted apart like a murmuring sea to let them pass through.  As they reached the edge of the sacred circle he saw Gwen standing in the crowd.  She gave Lancelot a loving glance, proud of his part in the ceremony, then smiled tentatively at Merlin.  Merlin was startled for a moment before hesitantly nodding and returning her smile.

The sacred circle was a large grassy space, its circumference formed of small pale pebbles.  To the southern side of the circle was the element of fire, a bonfire much smaller than the one he had seen on his approach.  On the northerly side of the circle, stood the druid who would perform the ceremony, a low table beside him bearing the items he would need.  He was younger than Merlin had expected, his short beard chestnut brown and barely touching the front of his embroidered, forest-green robes.  In his strong right hand he held upright a long staff symbolizing the element of earth.

The crowds drew close around the edge of the circle, a forest of shadowy figures that looked half unreal in the flickering firelight.  Every now and again the flames would illuminate a face, a servant or a noble or a knight…some he knew, and many he did not.  It felt like being in a dream.

Merlin gazed across the circle to see Arthur standing opposite him on the far edge, he was passing a word and a smile with Leon who was handing him a sword to symbolize the element of air.  Merlin’s attention was distracted by someone nudging him sharply in the ribs, he looked round to see Gwaine at his side.  “Here you go, don’t spill it, it’s bad luck.”

Merlin took the wide, shallow grail of water carefully in both hands.  “Thanks, no pressure then.”

“Apparently if you trip and throw it all over the druid then it’s particularly bad luck.”

“I’m nervous enough already.’

Gwaine intentionally nudged his elbow, making the water slop dangerously around the bowl.  Merlin took a sharp breath and struggled to not to spill any, before giving him a look of disbelief.  “You idiot!”

Gwaine just laughed, and lent forward to kiss Merlin on the cheek.  “Good luck.”

Merlin glanced across the circle, even from this distance he could feel the ice in Arthur’s expression as he scowled disapprovingly at Gwaine.  Merlin grinned at Arthur’s display of jealousy, and Arthur grinned back, his shoulders relaxing and his head tilting in a small apologetic nod.

The druid suddenly caught everyone’s attention by coughing and beginning to recite the opening words of the ceremony.  The crowd immediately fell silent and the only noise was the crackling of the fire and the low tones of the recitation.

After walking the inner edge of the circle, using the end of his long staff to draw the sacred space symbolically into place, he resumed his place at the northerly side and invoked the spirit of earth to bless the union that would take place.

Next he pointed the staff at the fire, which suddenly blazed hotter and higher, making a ripple of surprise and awe move through the crowds, and called on the spirit of fire.

His hand beckoned Merlin to walk forward and stand in front of him.  Merlin stepped forward over the pebbles, and as soon as his bare feet touched the frosty grass inside the circle he could feel the power crackling through the ground beneath him.  The hair on the back of his neck rose up as though the air was preparing for a storm. 

Merlin picked his way carefully across the grass to stand in front of the druid, who gave him a kindly look from gentle, brown eyes.

“Merlin, you bring the element of water into the circle, we call on the spirit of water to bless this union.”

The druid called forward Arthur, and Merlin dared a sideways glance to see him crossing into the circle.  He could see from Arthur’s surprised expression that he too could feel the power surging around the space they stood in.   

“Arthur, you bring the element of air into the circle, we call on the spirit of air to bless this union.”

The druid motioned for them to lay the grail and sword onto the ground to each side of them.  “Please face each other and join your hands.”

They turned to look at each other, taking a step closer so that they could hold each other’s hands easily.  Despite the cold night, Arthur’s fingers were warm where they linked with his own.  He squeezed tightly for a moment, feeling the strength of the calloused fingers as they tightened in return.

The druid had lifted the fine silk cords from the table beside him and now wrapped the scarlet cord loosely around their joined wrists.

“With the cord of fire, I bless your union, may you always have passion and courage.”

He tied one end of the green cord to the end of the red cord and wrapped it in another loose turn about their wrists.  “With the cord of earth, I bless your union, may you always have loyalty and endurance.”

The blue cord was next.  “With the cord of water, I bless your union, may you always have compassion and joy.”

Now he knotted the yellow cord to the blue one.  “With the cord of air, I bless your union, may you always have wisdom and enthusiasm.”

The last cord was tied to the others and wound round on top of the others binding them together.  “This golden cord represents the spirit, the cord to bind them all, above all else, may you always have love.”  The druid turned to pick up the rings from the table.

Merlin looked down at his thin wrists, bound to Arthur’s larger ones by the multiple colours that glittered in the firelight.  Everything seemed simultaneously both dreamlike and also more vivid and intensely real than anything he had ever experienced before.  He could see the dusting of golden hairs across the back of Arthur’s hands, and could feel the pulse beneath Arthur’s skin beating in time with his own, as though their two hearts were working in unison to send the same blood around their bodies.

He raised his face to Arthur’s and saw an expression of wonderment that mirrored his own.

The druid held the rings in his open palms, “The circle is a magical thing, with no end and no beginning.  These circles represent the endless cycles of eternity and rebirth.”

He passed the smaller ring to Arthur who twisted his hands within the loose bonds, so that he could slide the yellow and white gold ring onto Merlin’s finger.  Arthur’s voice was quiet.  “You already held my heart and soul in your keeping long before I ever realised it myself, now I know it, and with this ring I let the world know it.”

Merlin took the other ring from the druid and slipped it onto Arthur’s finger.  “My life, my magic and my love are yours for all of my life, and, if the Gods allow it, for all our lives after this one.”

“You are joined in the sight of the Goddess and the God and all those here,” smiled the druid, “you may kiss to seal your union.”

They closed the small distance between them, lifting up their wrists, still caught together by the cords, so that they were settled between their chests, feeling their hearts beating against their joined hands.  The new gold rings on their fingers hit each other and chimed softly.  They both started in surprise as they felt a small shock like molten gold shoot from the point of joining and spark through their blood like fire.  Then Arthur’s lips met his, and they shared the first kiss of their marriage. 


	11. Chapter 11

Their journey back into the castle was a lot more noisy and festive than the solemn journey out of it.  Many of the attendees were left around the bonfires to celebrate there, but most of the nobles and knights followed Merlin and Arthur in a rambling torchlit procession back to the celebratory meal in the Great Hall.

As was ancient custom, as soon as Merlin and Arthur entered the Hall, a group of boisterous men, led in this instance by a mischievous Gwaine, bustled them off their feet and carried them, laughing and protesting, up the stairs and through the corridors to Arthur’s rooms where they shoved them inside and pushed a heavy chest in front of the door to block them in until they’d consummated their union and would thump on the door to be let out.

They stood panting heavily in the quiet of the room.  Gwaine and the other men could be faintly heard on the other side of the thick, wooden door, cat-calling and laughing and calling for drink from a passing servant.

“It’s barbaric,” said Arthur with a grin.

“Totally,” grinned Merlin.

“Suppose we’d better get on with it then, if we want to get some food tonight.”

“Suppose we’d better, I’m starving.”

They seemed to grow suddenly self-conscious then, and turned away from each other to shuck out of their cloaks and robes.  Never mind the fact that they had enthusiastically bedded each other many times already.  Merlin found himself shivering like a virgin as he slipped his robe over his head.  It felt ridiculous for this to feel so new.  But, once he was nude, as he turned back to Arthur, he could see that Arthur was feeling the same.

Arthur was gloriously naked now and gleamed golden in the candle light.  He’d been the one to unwrap the handfasting cords from their wrists after the ceremony, and somehow, throughout the ride back, and the ridiculous ritual of the men pushing them together into this room, he'd still somehow clung hold of them, half-forgotten, in one hand.  

He looked uncertainly at Merlin as though they’d barely met before, his anxiety palpable.  Merlin wasn’t even sure what they were nervous about, but the tension was almost painful.

“If we don’t do it now, it doesn’t matter you know, they’ll never know.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, “I know, but…I want to.”

“So do I.”  Merlin reached out and grabbed the coloured cords trailing from Arthur’s fist, using them to tug him over to the bed.

When the back of Merlin’s knees pressed against the bed behind him, Arthur grabbed the red silk cord and wrapped it around Merlin’s left wrist.  “You looked so beautiful.”   

Merlin flushed, “Thank you.”  He let himself fall back onto the bed, his body bouncing softly.  The cord came with him, still twined around his wrist.

He paused for a moment, feeling Arthur’s hungry gaze on him, and feeling the chill tension in the room beginning to morph into a glorious, dangerous heat.

He kicked with his feet to shove his body back up the bed, until his red-twined left wrist was pressed against the inside of the bedpost.  Then he stretched like a cat, his whole body undulating luxuriously against the soft, scarlet coverlet, but kept his wrist pressed so immovably against the polished wooden post that it might as well have been tied there.

Arthur stood over the bed, breathing so shallowly that it was hardly discernable.

After a moment, Arthur got onto the bed and knelt astride Merlin, his backside was a warm firm weight pressing into Merlin’s stomach.  He leant forward, taking the red cord and raising questioning eyebrows.  Merlin felt a flush spread like scalding water over his chest and neck, he had to half-close his eyes in embarrassment, but nodded urgently.

Arthur wound the free end of the red cord around the bedpost to secure Merlin’s wrist.  “If you want me to stop, just say so, alright?”

Merlin closed his eyes and flexed and gasped.  He craved…he wasn’t even sure what he wanted, but this wasn’t enough.   

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”  Merlin couldn’t bear to open his eyes in case Arthur was looking at him somehow differently.  He stretched his right arm and pressed it so hard against the wood of other bedpost that it felt as though it might bruise the bone.

Arthur’s weight shifted on him, leaning forwards, then another of the silken cords was snapping taut around his right wrist and binding it to the bedpost so tightly that the slight pain went shooting, like a blazing ember spat from a fire, straight to his groin.

He heard the low groan that came from his own throat.  He sounded like a wounded animal.

His eyes flicked open, fearful of Arthur’s reaction, but Arthur’s lips were parted and slick, and his eyes barely half open, as though he too were experiencing new sensations that were overwhelming him.

Merlin bucked his hips, as much as he could beneath the weight of Arthur sitting across him.  He felt his erection sliding harmlessly across Arthur’s buttock.  “Please…”

Arthur seemed to suddenly blink awake from a deep sleep.  His tongue flickered out to moisten his lips, and his gaze raked the bedside table.  He lunged forward, briefly knocking all Merlin’s breath from his body, as he reached across him for the lavender oil.

Arthur sat back, mesmerised, watching Merlin’s ribs straining to pant in breath between the joint stress of his outstretched arms and Arthur’s weight bearing down on his stomach.

Arthur suddenly seemed to come back to himself, he shook his head, as though to clear his thoughts, his hair was heavy and dark with sweat against his forehead, “Are you alright…?”

“Oh yes.”  Merlin’s voice was a breathy groan.

Arthur raised himself up on his knees, relieving the pressure on Merlin’s ribcage.  He spilled some of the oil across his fingers and Merlin watched, fascinated, as Arthur opened himself.

Arthur bit his lower lip, his eyes were half closed, barely a glimmer of blue visible under the long blonde lashes.  Merlin could see the awkward way his right arm bent back behind himself, the way Arthur’s jaw tensed as his fingers flexed within his own entrance, pushing and stretching.  Each movement was shown on his face, in the slight tightening of his brows or the stuttering, desperate movements of his lips as the air entered his mouth in tiny, silver breaths.

Merlin’s gaze slid down over the broad shoulders and the lightly furred chest, he longed to run his fingers through the downy, blond hair.  He unconsciously flexed his arms, forgetting for a second they were restrained…and then sighed with pleasure when he was reminded that they were.

His writhing made Arthur’s eyes snap open, and Arthur stared down at him, taking in the taut muscles of his stretched arms, and the tight arch of his ribs.

Arthur raised himself up on his knees and his hand reached behind him to grab Merlin.  Merlin was already hard, but Arthur stroked him roughly, once…twice…until Merlin was sure he would explode and bit his lip to resist coming too soon.

Arthur smiled and positioned himself, and Merlin let out a high whine as Arthur sank down onto his length.  Arthur rose up…then relaxed down again, his strong thighs raising and lowering his body with easy grace, with the smooth and relentless motion of someone riding a horse.  Each time he took a little more of Merlin inexorably inside him, and Merlin shuddered and twisted beneath him, his hands turning and clenching helplessly in their bonds.

Finally he was fully sheathed.  Merlin felt his eyes roll back in pleasure as Arthur began riding him in earnest. 

He thought he’d reached the limits of sensation, but then Arthur lay down on him so that they were pressed sweaty chest to sweaty chest.  Arthur was able to push Merlin even deeper inside himself from this angle and Merlin found himself babbling ridiculous endearments.  Arthur’s hands roamed across Merlin’s chest, then up his biceps and forearms, feeling the tight cords of the handfasting before moving up to twine his fingers with Merlin’s, holding tight, as he pressed back, and Merlin was home…and home…and home…

And he could feel an explosion across his stomach, smearing between their bodies, and in the exhilaration of it, for a moment, it was hard to tell whether it was himself or Arthur coming.

But then, a second later, he knew it had been Arthur, as now Merlin was gasping and praying and coming, and for a moment everything was going black, and then he was relaxing into the soft bedcovers as though every muscle in his body had been cut and he was some sort of stringless marionette.

Arthur was a dead weight across him, his hot breath panting damply into Merlin’s neck.  He could feel Arthur’s fingers weakly pulling at the cord around his right wrist, clumsily tugging it free.

“Arthur?”

“Yes?”

“Let’s hang onto these handfasting cords.”

A sudden fist banging on the door and raucous laughter from outside reminded them that Gwaine and his accomplices were still waiting to accompany them back to the meal.

Then Arthur and Merlin were laughing into each other’s necks and snatching brief kisses at whatever skin they could reach, before rolling off the bed and stumbling into their clothes again, barely able to take their eyes off each other the whole time.


	12. Chapter 12

Snow had started to fall and the leaded windows were a dark grey that shed little light into the library.  Geoffrey’s desk was empty, and it took a moment for Merlin to spot him down one of the aisles of scrolls and books.  Geoffrey’s dusty black robes seemed to blend with the shadows and his grey beard and hair were the same colour as parchment, he was like an old book made flesh.

He looked up as he sensed Merlin’s presence, and when he spoke, his voice was as sharp as a new quill.  “Can I help you?”

Merlin tried to project an aura of confidence, Geoffrey was incredibly intimidating, but Merlin was married to the King now, so surely that must carry a degree of respect?

“Erm…I was hoping to see something about architecture…or… street planning…?”

“Why?”  Geoffrey’s eyes were cold.  Apparently marrying royalty carried little weight amongst librarians.

“Arthur… _King_ Arthur…”  Merlin mentally kicked himself, he sounded like an idiot, “has put me in charge of renovating part of the Lower Town…I’ve been down there…but I’d like to get some thoughts from people who know what they are doing…the Romans were such great builders, I wondered if you might have…?”

Geoffrey beamed.  Merlin had never seen that expression on the man’s face before and for a moment the sight of the man’s large, yellow teeth was so unexpected as to be almost frightening.  “You’re going to build on the knowledge of the past?  This is exactly what this library was created for.”

Geoffrey grabbed him by the arm with thick meaty fingers and pulled him along the nearest aisle of books, not stopping until they had reached the far wall. 

“Up there, that one.”  Geoffrey pointed at a thick brown tome.  “I’ll get the steps.”

“That’s alright, I can…”  Merlin shrugged shyly and his eyes flared gold as he made the book pull itself jerkily out from the shelf and float down to them.

“Be careful with it!” snapped Geoffrey, in exactly the same way as he would if Merlin were handling the book manually.  The casual way that Geoffrey accepted his magic made Merlin relax.  He hadn’t even realised how tense he’d been until that moment.

Merlin floated the book gently into Geoffrey’s waiting hands.

“Hmm.”  Geoffrey’s bushy white eyebrows rose as he eyed Merlin appraisingly.  “That’s a fine talent for a librarian, and you aren’t actually touching the books at all, no finger grease to make them deteriorate.   If you ever want to spend some time in the library…I’m planning to rearrange the entire contents by subject and author..?”

“I think I’m going to be kept busy for a while, with the street rebuilding and things…”

“Yes, well.”  Geoffrey carried the book past him to the end of the aisle and laid it on a table.  “Whenever you’re free, Merlin, you can come down here and give me a hand perhaps?”

Merlin pulled a chair up to the table.  “Definitely, I will definitely do that.”

Geoffrey nodded solemnly.  “Good.”

Merlin carefully opened the book, aware of Geoffrey’s eyes on him and trying to hardly touch the pages with his fingertips.  A few page turns took him to intricate diagrams of house layouts, and then to designs for cranes that would move heavy stones…  His eyes widened.  “This is wonderful!”

Geoffrey’s chest seemed to puff out.  “Indeed, Vitruvius is the greatest of the Roman architects.  It’s a copy of course.  Do you want me to translate?”

Merlin peered at the words, then flicked back a few pages.  “My mother was an educated woman, she taught me Latin, Gaius continued that teaching when I came here…  I think can make most of it out… All buildings should be…firmitas…utilitas…venustas…solid, useful and…?”

“Beautiful,” supplied Geoffrey.

“Ah yes, of course.”   

“Some of it is in Greek, do you read Greek too?”

Merlin flushed.  “No, not at all.”

“I can translate for you.  And at the same time I can teach you how to read it if you would like.”  Geoffrey snorted dismissively as though learning Greek was something easily remedied instead of an almighty challenge

“That’s so kind of you.  Thank you. ” Merlin was so touched he could barely find his voice.  “Really, thank you, I would love that.”

Geoffrey gave a weird half-shrug that made him look like a disgruntled owl.  He seemed uncertain, embarrassed that Merlin might start to laugh at him; but when Merlin showed no sign of doing so, Geoffrey seemed to relax slightly.  “It’s no trouble.”  He shuffled off back to his desk.

Merlin smiled after him, he’d never suspected that Geoffrey might have a softer side.  Then he turned his attention to the astonishing book.   

There were all sorts of amazing diagrams and explanations within its covers; Vitruvius turned out to be a genius in all manner of different fields.  Within just the space of an hour Merlin saw the plans for building a hypocaust system that could keep a house pleasantly warm in the coldest British winter, how to construct aqueducts, how to create siege engines if that were something Arthur might need...

The book was a wonder and Merlin could have spent days in it and never come up for air.

As it was Geoffrey startled him by tapping him on the shoulder.

Merlin jerked up in his seat, suddenly surprised by how dark it was, and wondering when it was that the wall sconces had been lit.

“I’m going back to my chambers now, for supper and bed,” said Geoffrey.

Merlin blinked at him.  Already?  Surely it must be mid-afternoon at most?  He looked up at the windows which were fully dark. 

“It’s quite late,” said Geoffrey, “King Arthur will be wondering where you are.”

“Yes, right.”  Merlin pushed himself up from the table and heard his muscles protesting and his joints cracking as they only did after long periods of stillness.  “I’m sorry I’ve kept you here.  This book is so interesting…”

Geoffrey smiled suddenly and in an impulsive gesture that seemed to catch them both by surprise, he reached out and ruffled Merlin’s hair in a fatherly gesture that was totally unlike him.

Geoffrey’s eyes widened in horror at his own lapse of reserve and he coughed loudly.  “Yes, well, I’ll see you…when you next want to see the book…or learn some Greek …or…”

“Thank you, Geoffrey,” said Merlin sincerely, “I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” replied Geoffrey cooly, as though it didn’t matter to him at all one way or the other.

Merlin glanced back as he left the library.  Except for the pools of torchlight the room was now fully dark.  He’d always seen Geoffrey as a forbidding and slightly unpleasant figure, but now, when he looked back and saw Geoffrey’s soft smile as he gently closed the book by Vitruvius and left it on the table for Merlin’s return, Merlin realised that he’d completely misread the man, and that there was a warmth within him that he kept carefully hidden.


	13. Chapter 13

“Where have you been?”

Merlin blinked in surprise.  Arthur was padding restlessly around the candlelit room like a caged bear.  As he passed the bed he snatched up a tunic that Merlin had left lying on it and threw it onto the floor.  “This place is a mess.”

“Well, that isn’t helping,” muttered Merlin.

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Merlin mildly.

Arthur kicked the open door of the wardrobe as he passed it, sending it slamming closed and then bouncing open again.  “Bloody door doesn’t even shut.”

It would shut perfectly well if closed with a hand and the latch turned, but Merlin resisted mentioning it.

“And your food’s cold.”

Merlin’s bowl of mutton stew and lump of crusty bread sat opposite Arthur’s empty bowl and plate on the table.  The surface of the stew had an unpleasant film of congealed fat, but all it took was a muttered spell and a movement of his hand and the stew began to bubble thickly.  The steam smelled of meat and rosemary and his stomach growled loudly. 

Arthur scowled.  “So where have you been?  In the tavern I suppose?”

“That doesn’t even make sense, you know that when Gaius said I was ‘in the tavern’ I was never really in the tavern.”

“What do I know?  I don’t know anything.  Everyone lies to me and keeps me in the dark.”  Arthur paced back to the window and almost tripped over a pair of his own boots that were lying on the floor.  He kicked one of them savagely across the room.  “Do you _ever_ put anything away, Merlin, or do you just spend your days lazing in bed?”

He could point out that he wasn’t actually Arthur’s manservant anymore, but he took a deep breath and restrained himself. 

“Why don’t you keep me company while I eat?”  Merlin sat down.  He looked up at Arthur calmly for a moment, then tore off a hunk of bread and began dipping it in his stew.

For a moment Arthur hesitated, as though unwilling to give up storming around the room, then he flung himself into the chair opposite.  The chair scraped loudly across the floor with the force of his landing.  He put his legs straight out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles, then crossed his arms protectively across his chest.

The stew was remarkably tasty and Merlin was starving, but he could barely notice the flavour when Arthur was sitting across from him like a storm cloud personified.

Once he had eaten half the bowl, and Arthur’s tense shoulders had, almost imperceptibly, begun to relax in the companionable silence, Merlin ventured a question.  “So, what happened?”

Ten minutes ago Arthur would have glared at him angrily, now he just looked tired and drained.  “What?”

“Well I know you’re not really upset about the state of the room, because I was a rubbish manservant, and it’s always looked like this.”

Arthur snorted irritably, but there was a hint of smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“So what is it really?’

Arthur closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  “Where were you this afternoon?”

“I went to the library to see Geoffrey, I wanted to find out more about how the Romans went about their town planning.”

Arthur let out a pained sigh.  “We never thought of the library.”

“You’ve been looking for me?”  Merlin’s eyes were wide and apologetic.

“All afternoon…and then…in the evening, I was sure you’d be back for dinner…but you didn’t appear…”

“I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

“It’s fine, how could you know.  I just…”

Arthur’s posture had relaxed now and one arm lay loosely across the surface of the table.  Merlin reached across with his left hand and linked their fingers together.  “What happened?”

“I went to see my father in the West Wing this afternoon.”

Merlin tensed, nothing involving Uther would end well.  “What did he say?”

Arthur choked out a small laugh.  “Nothing, he was very pleasant in fact, and was hoping that I might let him attend our coronation.”

Merlin blinked, “Well, that sounds…good.”

Arthur grimaced.  “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”  He snatched up a crumpled scrap of parchment from the table and tossed it in Merlin’s direction.

Merlin released Arthur’s fingers so that he could use both hands to smooth the scrap open on the table top.  He stared at it for a moment, but the symbols made no sense.   He raised his eyes to Arthur’s.

“It’s a code,” supplied Arthur, “we were wondering whether he was passing messages to someone.  After a couple of weeks of raging anger, He suddenly seemed to accept the situation far too easily, and became compliant, we guessed that something was happening.”

“And this?  Can you read it?”

“Gaius put a poppy seed potion into his wine today, and it knocked him out for a few hours, so that we had a chance to pick this up and then search his rooms for the key to the cypher.  This is a copy, when he wakes up, he won’t even realise that anything has happened, we hope it will let us follow the chain to whomever he’s passing these notes onto.”

Merlin looked at him with betrayal in his eyes, “You never told me any of this.”

“It was only a suspicion until this afternoon.  Then a guard spotted him writing this.”

“You could have told me.”

Arthur dragged his hands across his face, “I should have done, I know.  But, I didn’t want to.  I was hoping it wasn’t true, and my father has already done so much…”

“So, what does it say?”

“This message is very brief, but reading between the lines, it seems as though Uther has entered into an arrangement with a king of a neigbouring territory, we don’t know who yet.  I’m guessing that he’s willing to cede certain lands in order to have me overthrown and himself put back on the throne.”

“That’s horrendous,” gasped Merlin, “he’d betray his own son?”

“Well, to be fair, in his eyes, I betrayed him first,” said Arthur.  “But, more importantly, in this note he’s asking why you haven’t been killed yet.”

“Me?” 

“The note is asking why it hasn’t yet been done.  He refers to you as 'the Sorcerer'…so they know you have magic. Not that that’s exactly a secret anymore…”  Arthur stared at the oak tabletop, as though he could see some answers there.  “I’m sorry, I should have had him under tighter guard…”

Merlin grabbed his hand again, and squeezed.  “Who would’ve guessed he’d do this?”  Merlin thought for a moment.  “Some days ago, in the Lower Town, I could have sworn I was being followed, but I thought it was stupid.”

Arthur’s gaze sprang up to meet his.  “That might have been an assassin.”

“Or it might just have been me jumping at shadows.”

“I’ve never known you to do that, if anything, you’re stupidly brave.”

“Take the ‘stupidly’ out of that sentence and I might let you in bed with me tonight.”

A harsh burst of laughter broke Arthur’s mood.  “When are you going down to the town again?”

“I said I’d go and see Geoffrey again tomorrow afternoon, but I was planning on going into the town in the morning.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t be absurd, you’re training with the knights.  I’ll take Norval with me.”

“Norval cleans our room, unless the assassin they send is allergic to dust then Norval isn’t qualified to fight him off.”

“I’m not entirely helpless.”  Merlin flexed his fingers and sent a playful burst of yellow sparks across the table.

“I’ll come with you tomorrow,” said Arthur, his voice brooking no argument, “after that, I’ll assign one of the knights to you.”

Merlin stirred the remains of his stew.  “I’d rather hoped that once Morgana was defeated and you were on the throne, then all the problems would be pretty much over.”

“Life’s not like that.”  Arthur rose to his feet and came to stand behind Merlin’s chair, his hands warm and reassuring on Merlin’s shoulders.  They were maybe clutching a little too hard, as though the worry of the afternoon still hadn’t quite left him.  “But,” Merlin felt him lean down and press a kiss into the thick, dark hair on top of his head, “we’re alive and we’re together, so I’m not going to complain.”    


	14. Chapter 14

“You don’t need to do this, you know.”

At his side, Arthur crunched heavily through the light layer of snow.  “If some assassin tries to try to take you out with a crossbow, then I want to be there.”

The rickety, wooden buildings of the Lower Town leaned together over the street, staring down at them with numerous dark windows, most of them too poor to have glass.  The hair rose on the back of Merlin’s neck, now every gaping window seemed to hold a hidden threat.  “Thanks for mentioning that.  I wouldn’t mind so much if there was anything you could do about it.”  

“If I spot something, I can alert you and you can stop the bolt with your magic.”

Merlin blinked and swallowed.  “You expect me to react faster than a crossbow bolt?”

Arthur looked at him in surprise. “I’ve seen you use magic that was like lightning.”

“Well, yes, once I set it in motion the magic is fast.  But it’s like someone holding a sword, once you swing the sword, the swing itself is quick, but if you want to block someone, then you have to have the reaction time to start swinging it in the first place.  You’ve taken me hunting with you, would you say I had the fastest reactions in the world?”

 Arthur’s eyes widened in horror, and his gaze skimmed across the abundant windows, shadowy alleys and doorways.  “I’ve changed my mind, this is a bad idea.  We should go back to the castle now.”

Merlin shoved him in the shoulder.  “I’m not that bad!”

“Yes, you are.  I should never have let you come down here.”

There was something about the turn of phrase that just made Merlin bristle, “You can’t tell me where I can go, Arthur.”

Slightly startled, Arthur looked at him.  “I’m both the King and your husband, I can most certainly tell you where you can go.” 

“Well, as regards being the King, I hope you wouldn’t abuse your position by ordering me to stay away from places that I’m perfectly entitled to go.  And as to the husband thing, well, I’m _your_ husband, can I tell you what to do?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Exactly.”

Arthur grimaced.  “It’s not at all the same thing.  I’m…protecting you.”

“And if I decided _you_ needed protecting and weren’t allowed to step outside the castle?  Anyway, I can hardly stay inside our room for the next twenty years.”

Arthur gave a low, grudging, harrumph sound that rather reminded Merlin of a stag in rut.  He supposed that was Arthur acknowledging his argument and decided to let it drop.

“It’s quite pretty down here,” commented Arthur after a few tense minutes of silent walking.

“That’s the snow,” said Merlin, “under this there’s a stinking layer of kitchen waste and night soil.”

Merlin smothered a smile as Arthur’s booted feet suddenly seemed to fall a lot more gently and he started to pick his way around the more lumpy areas.

As they approached the market the streets started to fill up with people.  Arthur was recognised of course, but as he was obviously on some sort of unofficial visit, the polite thing seemed to be to pretend he hadn’t been noticed.  Only the children stopped to stare at him, and they were soon shown the error of their ways by a cuff round the head from the nearest adult. 

Despite the people pretending to ignore them, Merlin noticed that the crowd seemed to clear in front of them in a way that it certainly hadn’t the last few times he had been down here.

“So what are your thoughts so far?”  Arthur nodded at the mass of stalls, their faded awnings blowing raggedly in the wind, and the churned mess of slush and filth that that the vendors and customers were plodding about in.  The sole element of joy in the cutting January wind seemed to be a man selling chestnuts from a portable brazier; the fire in the belly of the iron brazier flickered warmly, and the chestnuts blackening on the top of it smelt nutty and divine.

“I’m not sure I know what I’m doing…” said Merlin uncertainly.

“I don’t think you could make this much worse if you tried, Merlin.  So what are your ideas?”

“Well, I was thinking that maybe we could pave this whole area, in the Roman style, like one of their market forums.  Along the edges will be columns supporting a narrow roof.  That way the regular stalls can be under shelter and the centre part can be open for street entertainers and the sellers who carry their goods on trays.  I want this to be the centre meeting place for the new town houses we’re going to build, so as well as the current merchants, we’re going to want to encourage more expensive shops to take root, wine merchants and fabric merchants and so on, so it has to look the part.  But I don’t want to hound out the current vendors either.  So I’m hoping we can have a lively mix of everyone here.”

“That’s…”

Merlin shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

“That’s really…surprisingly good.”

Merlin beamed.

“What about your plans for the town houses?”  Arthur looked genuinely enthralled, much as Merlin had seen him when listening intently to the outline of a plan of battle.

Merlin blushed with pleasure and gestured to the Northerly end of the market place.  “On the side over there I was thinking that we could…”  He stopped abruptly.  “That’s him!”

Arthur followed his gaze.  “Who?”

“The man I thought was following me before.  See him?  Dark clothes, broad hat, standing over by that fabric stall just watching us.”

The figure’s face was frustratingly impossible to make out; the distance and the shadow of the hat falling across it turning it into just a smudge of lighter shadow.

The man realised he’d been seen, tensed, and turned to walk quickly away.

“Stay here!”

Before Merlin could say anything, Arthur was running off in pursuit.  For a moment he could see Arthur’s Long, leather coat flying out behind him, but then he wove through the crowd and chased the man down an alleyway.

There was no way that Merlin was going to stand by while Arthur ran into a possible trap, so he set off after him.  The crowd didn’t seem to notice Merlin and didn’t miraculously part for him in the same way that it had for Arthur, so he found himself having to barge through groups of people, and dart around others.  By the time he reached the alleyway Arthur was already out of sight.

Merlin ran on for a few minutes, but there were simply too many narrow, twisting side streets that they could have taken.  He finally came to halt at an empty crossroads, his head twisting from side to side, trying helplessly to guess which way to go.

Suddenly he felt a tug on his jacket and span round in alarm. 

“You looking for your friend?”

Merlin’s breath gasped out in relief as he looked down and saw the small dirty face under the mop of brown hair, “Bryn!  Yes, I’m looking for my friend, the man with the blond hair and the brown coat, have you seen him?”

“I seen him.  He was walking up the road up there,” Bryn nodded over his shoulder, “going back up to the castle.”

Merlin relaxed.  Arthur must have lost the man in black and, finding Merlin not still waiting in the marketplace, decided that he must have gone back to the castle.  At least Arthur was safe.

Bryn interrupted his thoughts.  “Penny for a pie?”

Merlin made himself scowl, in what he hoped was a vaguely threatening manner.  “Only if you don’t kick me again.”

Bryn seemed outraged.  “What?  I never did!”

“Yes, right.”  Merlin had to damp down a smile, the boy was a lying little toe rag, but he guessed his life had given him no choice.  He fished a penny out of the pouch at his belt.  “Here you are.”

“Gimme tuppence and I’ll bring you back a pie as well.”

Merlin sighed as he handed the boy two pence.  That was two pence that he’d never see again, and he didn’t expect to ever see the promised pie either.  “Go on then.”

Bryn grabbed the coins and ran off down one of the side streets, his rag-bound feet making hardly any noise on the snow.

After a minute Merlin set off at a slow amble in the direction of the castle.  Next time he came down here maybe he could bring a pair of child’s shoes with him, just in case he ran into him again, the poor boy’s feet must be freezing. 

He’d only gone a few more streets when Bryn suddenly appeared out of an alleyway beside him, one half-eaten pie clutched in his fist, and a whole one clutched in the other.  The boy thrust his arm straight out, shoving the pie at Merlin’s waist like a dagger.  “Pie!”

 Merlin took the warm pie gratefully, feeling a swell of emotion rising in his throat.  He’d misjudged the boy and he felt terrible about it. 

Bryn sent a scavenger’s wary glance up and down the empty street, as though scared that someone would suddenly appear and snatch the food away.  “You gonna eat it?”

“Yes, thank you.”  Merlin took a large bite, and Bryn seemed to preen in satisfaction.

The contents of the pie were chewy and tasted somewhat strange, but that was street vendors for you.  Merlin took another enthusiastic bite and nodded, pleased to see Bryn grinning.  “This is lovely, Bryn, thank you.”

Bryn danced along at his side as he continued walking. 

Considering it was January, the air had warmed up considerably.  Merlin blinked.  It might feel warmer, but a heat haze was definitely unlikely, so he wondered why the street in front of him seemed to be quivering like a living thing.  He rubbed a hand across his eyes.

“This is the quickest way to the castle.”  Bryn gestured down a dark side street.

Merlin stopped and wavered.  At least the street looked cooler than the one he was in, he felt as though he was burning up.  Bryn grabbed his free hand and pulled him forwards, Merlin stumbled after him.

They were half way along the street when Merlin cast the half eaten pie violently away from him and tugged his hand free. 

“You’ve poisoned me!”

Bryn skipped away from him, and stood just out of reach, watching him with bright and curious blue eyes.

Merlin staggered over to lean against the nearest building, then shoved the fingers of one hand down his throat.  He retched, but couldn’t seem to throw up.  He tried again.  This time he was more successful, and he vomited onto the street at his feet.  Some of it splashed up over his boots.

“You’ve done well.”

Through watering eyes, Merlin blinked up and saw a man in black patting Bryn on the shoulder and handing him a gold coin.

“What you gonna do, you ain’t gonna kill him are you?”

“That’s nothing to do with you, run along.” The man slapped Bryn up the side of the head and sent him scurrying off down the alley.

Merlin sagged back against the wall, his knees seemed to have lost all strength and he began to slide down it towards the ground. 

The man loomed over him, the poison he’d absorbed made the man seem like something dark and monstrous.  Some small part of his brain that wasn’t quailing in drug-induced terror recognised the sharp, black beard and the cold, dark eyes.

“Captain Parris.”  It came out as barely a whisper.

Parris was crouching down, yet still above him.  When had Merlin ended up lying on his back?  The snow was cold beneath him.  He didn’t remember collapsing, but he must have.  He blinked slowly.

Parris reached out and Merlin felt his head lifted and something cold and metallic slipped behind his neck.  He realised it was a neck shackle and felt Parris push the other side closed and click a lock into place.

Merlin shuddered violently as his magic suddenly retreated from the shackle and disappeared deep within himself.  He felt frozen and empty, far worse than when Muirden’s beetle had been inside him.  That had merely curbed him from using his magic, this shackle seemed to somehow lock it away deep inside him where he couldn’t even sense it.  He shivered from the cold.

Parris chuckled.  “I had to go back to Cenred and tell him you’d killed all my men, you ruined me, Merlin.  But you’re going to make up for it now.”

Merlin tried to reach for his magic, then convulsed in pain, his body spasming.  It was almost a relief when he felt his sight darkening around the edges and his consciousness slipping away before he passed out. 


	15. Chapter 15

Merlin’s head was pounding when he woke and he struggled to understand what was happening to him.  He was draped face down over a hard, rounded surface that jolted beneath him and banged painfully against his ribs and stomach.  He tasted bile at the back of his throat and thought he might vomit, but then he realised that his mouth was stuffed with fabric and was terrified he would choke.  He tried to breathe deeply through his nose and with difficulty he managed to force the feeling down.

Opening his eyes he saw a saddle girth and the brown, hairy side of a horse that swayed just inches from his nose.  Below that a snowy path sped past with blurry quickness that made him giddy and he saw the flash of hooves.

He realised that he was lying face down over a saddle, his hands tied behind his back and his legs bound at the ankles.  His startled eyes flew wide, and he squirmed in panic, sure that he was going to slide headfirst down onto the ground and be trampled by those hooves.  But after a few moments of that not happening, he realised that he had been tied securely in place.

Turning his head, he could just see the backs of two horses and riders up ahead of him. Looking the other way he could see that there was another rider bringing up the rear.  Merlin groaned, he could feel the metal shackle cold and heavy against the back of his neck, scraping against the skin there as his body was shaken by the movements of the horse beneath him.  He tried to reach for his magic, he didn’t care which sort, dark or light, anything that would help him get out of this, but there was nothing there, just a deep hollowness where it should have been.  It felt as though his insides had been carved out and a gaping emptiness left in his chest.

He must have groaned again, because the rider at the rear spurred his horse up alongside, a black boot came into view before a hand fisted in his hair and pulled his head up sharply, painfully wrenching his neck.  He had a brief glimpse of Parris’ face, before the hand released him and his head flopped down again.

“You’re awake then.  I was starting to think I’d been a bit heavy handed and overdosed the meat, it was lucky you managed to make yourself sick.  I could still take your dead body back to Cenred, but he wanted you alive.”

With the gag in his mouth, Merlin couldn’t even spit the reply that he wanted to. 

Parris laughed then, and let his horse fall back behind Merlin’s mount and the unpleasant journey continued.   After an hour or so Merlin wished he could lapse into unconsciousness again, as his back and shoulders began to ache fiercely, and being draped over the horse with his head hanging down made him feel dizzy and nauseous.

Arthur must have realised that he’d been abducted by now, but how would he know where he’d been taken, he’d probably assume that Merlin was still in the Lower Town and would have his knights searching the houses for him.  He hated to think how frantic Arthur must be; not even knowing if Merlin was still alive and probably suspecting the worst.

As time passed he began to think of very little at all except the burning pain in his shoulders and the bruising that the saddle was inflicting on his ribs and stomach.  If his mouth had been clear then he was pretty sure that he was prepared to beg Parris to let him ride normally, but Parris totally ignored his gagged grunted attempts to get his attention and after a while Merlin gave up and fell silent again.

Sometimes the men riding in front of him chatted together, and he found out that the one with the slight accent was called Jose and the other was Cadwall.

It was near nightfall when the horses finally stopped and he could have cried with relief.  He heard the men dismounting and tying up the horses.  He felt the ropes around him pull tighter briefly as efficient hands pulled at them to unfasten the knots holding him onto the saddle.  Parris grabbed his shoulders and Merlin’s alarmed yelp was muffled by the gag as he was tugged forwards, slithering down towards the ground with his hands still tied behind him and helpless to break his fall.  Parris didn’t let him drop though, and supported his shoulders as his bound legs slid down off the saddle and thumped to the ground.  

Parris dragged him far enough away from the horses that there was no danger of him being kicked, and then dumped him unceremoniously onto his side.

They were in a woodland clearing, Merlin watched the three men talking amongst themselves as they moved around the clearing building a fire and setting a pot of something over the flames to cook.  A couple of times Merlin made muffled protesting grunts through his gag, hoping that someone would remove it but Parris ignored him completely until they’d finished setting up camp and watering and feeding the horses.

Finally he walked over and crouched down on his haunches in front of Merlin, he leaned forward to untie the gag, then pulled out the wadded piece of cloth that the gag had been holding inside.  Merlin coughed convulsively and took deep panting breaths, his mouth felt dry and his lips tasted bloody at the corners from where the gag had rubbed. 

“Water.”

Parris manhandled him to a sitting position against the nearest tree, and brought over the waterskin.  He allowed Merlin to drink deeply before taking it away.  Water dripped down his chin and over the front of his red tunic.  While he was at the other man’s mercy, Merlin didn’t want to antagonise him needlessly.  If the torture he’d endured today had been Parris acting indifferently, then he didn’t want to know how he’d be treated if Parris was angry with him.  “Thank you.”

 Parris arched one of his dark brows.  “I told you, Cenred wants you alive.”

“Please, would you untie me, or at least tie me differently, my shoulders…it’s agony.”

“But nothing like the agony you inflicted on my men.”

Merlin ducked him head, ashamed of the violent way he had killed them, and painfully aware of the curious looks the other two men were giving him.  “They were going to rape me.”

“And they’d done far worse before, I’m not saying they didn’t deserve it, but it was damned inconvenient.”  Parris stared at him coldly, “I suppose I could re-tie your hands in front of you, it’ll mean you can feed yourself and you can’t do much damage with that shackle round your neck.”

He moved behind Merlin and untied his wrists, carefully keeping them in a firm grip as he moved them round in front of him.  Merlin could have told him that he needn’t have bothered, since his arms felt so numb that he wasn’t sure he would be able to do anything with them apart from flop them uselessly. 

Once Merlin’s wrists were in front of him, Parris used the rope to knot them together again.  For a moment, the change of position was a blessed relief, but then the feeling began to rush back into his arms like liquid fire and he had to grit his teeth together and slam his head back against the tree to keep from screaming.

When the pain finally became bearable, Merlin opened his eyes to see Parris sitting across the fire from him with his two companions on either side.

“Arthur won’t stop until he tracks you down, you know.”

“By that time you’ll be safely in one of Cenred’s dungeons.”

“How will you even prove you’ve got me?”

“Oh, we can send him something, perhaps that nice handfasting ring you’re sporting there, I bet that’s one of a kind.”

Merlin reflexively clenched his fist.  “No.”

The man on Parris’s left had warm, tanned skin, that reminded him slightly of Lancelot, when he laughed his teeth were white and perfect.  He spoke with the accent that Merlin now recognised as Jose’s  “Don’t worry, we won’t take it off your finger.”

That meant that the man on Parris’ right must be Cadwall.  Cadwall was lean and pale and put Merlin in mind of a human ferret, “What Jose says is perfectly true, why bother taking it off, when we can just cut off the whole finger.  Can you imagine King Arthur’s face when he gets delivery of that.”

Parris rolled his eyes wearily.  “Oh do stop tormenting the prisoner, it gets tedious very fast.  Cadwall, give him some stew.”

The ferrety man grudgingly stood up, spooned some stew into a shallow bowl and stepped over to Merlin.  He leaned down to put it into Merlin’s tied hands.  As he bent over him, he hissed quietly, “wonder how much your King will want you back once he’s had delivery of all your fingers and Cenred starts sending him your toes, or an ear…”  Cadwall smirked as all the blood drained from Merlin’s face.

He knew Arthur would resist being blackmailed, but if Cenred did start sending parts of Merlin back to him with threats and demands, what could he do.  He hoped Arthur would go to war rather than let himself be manipulated, but receiving evidence of his husband being tortured and mutilated…Merlin hated to imagine what that would do to Arthur, wondered whether it might even send him a little insane.

If only he could use his magic, he could stop their hearts with just a thought.   He tried to reach for it again, but there was nothing, not even an answering whisper of force. 

He forced himself to raise the bowl and drink the stew, he needed to keep his strength up in case they left some opening for him to escape. 

When the men were ready to sleep for the night, Parris undid Merlin’s wrists and retied them behind his back.  He pushed Merlin down onto his side on a blanket and tied a length of rope between his wrists and ankles.  He tucked a blanket over him in a parody of care.  “Can’t have you dying of cold in the night.”  He straightened up.  “Jose, you take the first watch!”

Jose nodded and spooned himself another bowl of stew.

After a while Parris and Cadwall were asleep, and sometime later, despite the incredibly uncomfortable position that he was tied in, even Merlin managed to lapse into a doze.

He was startled awake by a hand clamping down over his mouth.  For a moment he tried to struggle, thinking that either Jose or Cadwall had decided to have some fun with him, but then a familiar voice hissed in his ear.

“Keep still, it’s me.”

Merlin tried to keep his breathing quiet as the hand was removed. 

Arthur hunched over him, half his attention on the sleeping men, the other half on the knotted ropes he was attempting to undo.  Merlin lay still, he could feel his heart pattering with fear that someone would wake before Arthur had finished, he couldn’t see Jose and wondered whether he had wandered off into the trees to relieve himself.  He scanned the shadowy trees, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t return too soon.

Finally he could shake his arms free, and lent forwards to help Arthur work on the knots around his ankles.

Arthur got his arm around Merlin’s shoulders to help him to his feet, and Merlin had to stuff his own knuckles between his teeth and bite down hard to keep from crying out as sensation rushed with blistering pain back into his arms and legs again.

Arthur had to half drag him away from the clearing, as Merlin couldn’t make his legs obey him and was staggering like a newborn deer. 

As they entered the tree line Merlin saw Jose.  He was lying on his back with his eyes and mouth frozen wide in an expression of surprise, even in the darkness Merlin could make out the inky puddle that spread out across the snow from the slice that had opened his throat.

They didn’t speak until they were some distance into the trees, and then only in tense whispers.

“Tell me you aren’t alone out here.”

“There was no time to get help,” said Arthur grimly, “I grabbed the nearest horse and followed Parris’s trail out of the town, it had started snowing again, and the trail would have been completely lost by the time I managed to get word to the knights.”

“How did you even know what had happened?”

“A little, dirty boy stopped me as I was on my way back to the market place and told me.  I raced to where he said you’d been captured and was able to follow the tracks out of the town.  They threw a few blankets over your body on the horse in order to smuggle you out through the gates.”

“Bryn,” said Merlin shaking his head.

“What?”

“The boy, it must have been Bryn.  Did you pay him?”

“I gave him a couple of gold coins, why?”

“I bet he didn’t mention that he was the one who slipped me the poison so that Parris could trap me.”

Arthur’s face went white with anger, “No, he didn’t.”

Merlin laughed dryly.  “I suppose we have to be grateful that he has no qualms about betraying anyone for money, or I’d still be looking forward to having my body parts chopped off one by one.”

“I was hiding in the undergrowth not far from you, I heard all of that.”  Arthur’s voice was tight.  “It was all I could do not to race straight into the clearing and take them on there and then, but I couldn’t risk one of them killing you while I was fighting the others.”

Arthur helped Merlin slither down a wooded slope and they found Arthur’s horse at the bottom where he had tied it. 

“I’d like to let you rest, but we have to get out of here, our trail is so clear a blind man could follow it, and we’re close to Essetir, so Cenred may have patrols looking to meet up with the men who took you.”

Merlin mustered a smile.  “I’ll be fine, so long as I’m sitting on the horse and not flung over it.”

“I managed to cut ahead of them sometimes, and see you pass.”  Arthur looked at the ground for a moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly like someone who had just fought in a tournament.  “It killed me not to be able to charge in and release you, especially when I saw you were conscious again.”  He looked up and forced his voice to lighten.  “How are your arms?”

Merlin rolled his shoulders and flinched.  “Everything aches, but I’ll be fine now.”

Arthur helped Merlin up onto the horse, and then swung up behind him.  He put one arm firmly around Merlin’s waist.  “We’re going to have to go away from Camelot and into Essetir before we can turn around; our trail’s too easy to follow.  We’ll have to walk the horse into the stream up there and follow it along.  It does curve back the way we want, but not for a while.”

Merlin leaned back against the comforting warmth of Arthur’s body and the stress of the day seemed to hit him like a sledgehammer.  Without realising that it was going to happen, his eyes slid shut and he slumped into sleep.    


	16. Chapter 16

“Hey!  Wake up!  Merlin!”

Every muscle protested with a shriek of pain as Merlin jerked up into a sitting position, he turned his head wildly trying to see which of the leering men were the closest.  His eyes widened and his mind stumbled over the fact that it was obviously morning and he was surrounded by trees when only a second ago he’d been being pursued through the night-time corridors of Camelot.  He couldn’t catch his breath.

“Merlin, calm down. We’re fine.  Easy.”  Arthur’s voice soothed him as though he was a panicked horse. 

“Arthur?”

“Bad dream?”  Arthur was crouching at his side.  He reached out to ruffle Merlin’s hair, but his hand slowed as it brushed past his forehead and slid back down to press against it.  “You’re burning up.”

Merlin reached up to feel his own forehead, wincing as he moved, every joint seemed to ache with a dull throbbing pain.  Did he feel hot?  He used the back of his hand to feel his cheek.  “I can’t tell.”

Arthur took his hand and frowned.  “That’s probably because your hands are ridiculously hot too.  I can understand you feeling rough after yesterday, but I don’t know why it would give you a fever.”

Merlin gently checked out the raw scraped skin on his neck beneath the edge of the metal shackle, then moved his fingertips to run across the runes carved onto the shackle’s surface.  “Could it be this?”

“Gaius said you were ‘addicted’ to the dark magic.  I just don’t believe that; since you started training with it you’ve never seemed compelled to use it.  But perhaps having that and your other magic completely blocked from you by this thing is making you ill.  In the same way that not having food would make you ill.  It doesn’t mean you’re _addicted_ to food, it just means you need it to live.”

“I don’t get nightmares and fevers when I’ve missed a few meals though.”

“No, but with magic you’d expect different symptoms, so maybe they are the magical equivalent of telling you you’re hungry.”

“That’s really surprisingly clever,” teased Merlin, “do tell me who told you it.”

Arthur fought a smile and reached out to cuff Merlin round the head, but then stopped himself at the last second.

Merlin enjoyed their horseplay, but at this moment was quite grateful to be treated a bit more gently, there was a headache just beginning that felt like an iron band being tightened across the top of his head, he’d never felt anything like it.

Arthur’s forehead creased in concern.  “You alright?”

”Fine!  Really!”

“We need to find a blacksmith to get that off you.”

Merlin shook his head.  “The most important thing is to get out of Essetir and back to Camelot, I can last till we get back.” 

“I’m not risking it.”

Getting slowly and painfully to his feet, Merlin waved away Arthur’s hovering hands, “I’m perfectly fine, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Blacksmith first, travel after,” said Arthur firmly, “besides, you’ll be able to protect us both if you have your magic back.”

Merlin just stood for a moment and gazed at him; Arthur’s broad shoulders were enhanced by the long sweep of the brown leather riding coat that flowed down from them.  His hair was catching the winter sun like a halo and his eyes were as deep and blue as the lake of Avalon on a balmy summer’s day.  Merlin knew that it went against everything in Arthur’s nature to expect someone else to protect him, yet here he was, pretending to want Merlin’s protection and humbling himself in an attempt to keep Merlin well.

Sometimes, Merlin felt overwhelmed by how lucky he was.  He reached up to stroke Arthur’s cheek.  “Never mind the Destiny and King of all Albion thing, you are just the most wonderful man.”

Arthur snorted, and turned away, but his face was flushing.  “No worries about the succession then, since apparently I did marry a girl.”

Despite his raging headache and the shivers that were starting to make his hands tremble, Merlin grinned widely.  “WAY, too late to change your mind, Arthur Pendragon.”


	17. Chapter 17

They hadn’t travelled far before snow began falling in large wet flakes that clung to their clothes and hair in perfect lacy stars. 

“It’ll help cover our tracks, but we aren’t dressed for this.”  Arthur’s voice seemed to come from a distance, even though Merlin could feel the warmth of his body tucked up behind him on the saddle.

Merlin shivered convulsively, somehow his ears and nose were aching from the cold, but his head felt hot and stuffed with wool.  Merlin blinked wildly to clear the snowflakes that had settled on his eyelashes.  The world around them had been transformed into a monochrome scene of shadowy grey trees and whirling white.  He squinted.  “Up there, is that smoke?”

The horse was pulled to a halt and he felt warm breath against his icy cheek as Arthur leaned forward to look.

“I think it is.”  Arthur’s heels kicked the horse into movement and steered it towards the ragged wisps of smoke.

They stopped a short while later when they reached the edge of the forest and looked down through the swirling snow at a broad valley.

What they saw made them both breathe in sharply.

The stream they’d been following meandered down the open, grassy slope to join up with the river that had once cut this valley out.  A road followed the far side of the river, and a small stone bridge crossed the river directly below them.  On the far side of the bridge, beside both the river and the road was an enormous military encampment. 

Lines of A-framed brown tents, their roofs dusted white with snow, filled the open ground.  Dotted through them were the larger tents for housing horses or serving food, as well as crudely constructed temporary buildings for blacksmiths to create or repair weapons.  Warmly dressed warriors with axes and swords hanging from their belts, were passing along the narrow dirt paths between the tents. Their long hair was bound into thick plaits that hung down over their fur cloaks, giving them a look of barbarian splendor.

“Saxons!”  Arthur hastily backed up their mount into the cover of the trees behind them.

“Do you think Cenred knows that they’re on his land?”

“A troop that large?  Of course he must.”  Arthur’s arm reached forward around him to point down the valley.  “And see there, those coloured tents; those are Cenred’s own troops I’m betting.”

“Is he planning to attack Camelot?”

“Possibly.  I don’t understand why he’d go to the trouble of sending someone to kidnap you though.  _We_ both know what you’re capable of because in our universe you caused devastation at the battle of Camlann, but Cenred doesn’t know that.  He’ll have heard you killed Morgana and Parris' men but…”

It was a struggle to think clearly through the headache that was still pounding across the top of his skull, but Merlin closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.  “Cadwall said that Cenred was going to send you my fingers one by one…”

Since Arthur was pressed close against his back he could feel Arthur’s shudder along his spine.

“What if that wasn’t just Cadwall having fun trying to scare me?  If that was true, then perhaps Cenred was planning to blackmail you.  Make you hold back while he attacks someone else.”

 “Queen Annis’ lands meet his to the north of here…  That would make sense.  I’d naturally go to her defense if he attacked her borders, but if he held you…”

Merlin twisted his head to try to catch sight of Arthur’s face, it was impossible to turn enough in the saddle to see him properly, but he caught a glimpse of the edge of his face; the muscles in Arthur’s jaw taut, and the blond hair dampened dark by snowmelt.  “Promise me, if anything like that ever happens then you’ll let me go and do what’s right.”

Arthur’s reply was a little too glib.  “Of course.”

“Swear it?”

Arthur’s voice was tight and verging on angry.  “You’re pushing me too far, Merlin, I’m not swearing to anything; I’m the King, I don’t need to swear to what I say.  And anyway, it isn’t going to happen.  What we need to do now is figure out how to get down to one of those blacksmiths and remove that collar.”

“What?”  Merlin looked down at the encampment containing thousands of Saxon warriors.  “That’s madness.”

“Not at all.”

Merlin could hear the thrill of the hunt in Arthur’s voice.

Arthur swung down from the horse and helped Merlin to the ground.  Merlin tried to keep standing, but his knees felt wobbly as aspic and he hardly even noticed when Arthur guided him to sit on a nearby fallen tree.

After tying the horse to a branch nearby Arthur looked over his shoulder and grinned wolfishly, “I’ll be back soon.”  He crouched low and started off through the snow storm towards the Saxon camp.

**********************

 

He was lying on an icy, stone-flagged floor and when he raised his head from the ground he could see all his severed fingers scattered around him in bloody little pools.  Alarmed, he pushed himself to his knees.  He had to collect them.  How could Gaius sew them back on if he didn’t bring them back to Camelot with him.  

But as he tried to scoop the first finger up between his stubby palms the finger slithered between them and fell back to the floor.

Cursing, he went for another, only to end up pushing it along the floor until it caught in the groove between the flagstones and he couldn’t seem to nudge it free.  He bent there, frustrated and close to crying as he tried to push it loose with the heel of his bloody hand…

_“Wake up, my love, it’s just another nightmare.”_

Merlin twisted his head, trying to see where the voice was coming from, it sounded like Arthur, but if Arthur had really been here then he’d be trying to help him collect his fingers.  Merlin huffed in despair and set back to pushing the finger from the crack between the stones.  Gold glinted just above the bloody stump, his handfasting ring!  It was his ring finger, he had to bring that back to Gaius…

“Merlin!”

Sharp pain exploded across his cheekbone and he reeled back and felt his fingers…his fingers?...flex in the snow beneath him.

He was lying on the ground and Arthur was looming over him, silhouetted against the slate-grey afternoon sky, a Saxon wolf-fur cape just a shade darker than the sky was draped around his shoulders.  The snow had stopped.

“I couldn’t get you to wake.” 

Merlin stared at him, “I had a dream…just a dream…”

Arthur grabbed him and pulled him into a sitting position.  He draped a heavy, grey, woolen cloak around Merlin’s shoulders, the fur at the collar brushed softly against Merlin’s icy cheek.   “Get up; we need to get you to the blacksmith’s.  I’ve found one at the Western edge of the camp that I can take you to, the smith there was forced to work there by Cenred but has no love for the Saxons.”

Arthur pulled him to his feet and adjusted the long cloak in place, pulling the hood forward to shadow Merlin’s pale and sweating face.

He grabbed Merlin around the waist as he swayed, pulling him against his side like a companion holding his drunken friend upright.  “Hold on to me.”

Merlin grabbed him round the waist. 

“Not long now, and we’ll have that foul thing off your neck.”

They stumbled together down the ice-slippery slope towards the Saxon encampment.  Merlin couldn’t help the errant thoughts that flitted through his mind whispering that not too long ago Arthur would have welcomed this sort of curb on magic.  But he had to let that go, everything had changed now.  He swept a shaking hand across his forehead and felt the burning heat.

He must have drifted off then, as his next conscious thoughts were of being carried, barely aware, into a building that was uncomfortably hot, with the light of flames flickering up the walls.     


	18. Chapter 18

“Can you remove it?’

“You didn’t tell me it was magical.”  It was an old man’s voice, resentful and angry.

Merlin opened his eyes but everything was a blurred haze of flickering, orange lights.  When he tried to sit up his head throbbed and his arms were aching and unresponsive.  The effort made him pant like someone who’d been running. “Arthur?”

The cool hand against his forehead was bliss, and he sank back against the hard pallet bed.

Arthur’s voice was close enough that he must be bending over him.  “Hush.  I’ll fix this, just relax.”  Then Arthur was speaking again, but not addressing him this time.  “What different does it make, just remove it.”

“I’d have to use magic as well as smithing tools to remove it.  And Camelot’s no friend to magic users.  If the King has put this binding on him, then I don’t want to be tracked down by the King’s troops for removing it.”

“That’s all changed; the new King has handfasted to a magic user.”

“Well, it’s all too late for me, old King Uther burned my grandson.  I’ll not use magic on one of his subjects.”

“This is ridiculous, we aren’t even in Camelot, and Essetir permits magic!” 

“Uther had a long reach and he was a vindictive man, who’s to say his son isn’t the same.”

“I’m not…”  Arthur paused, then continued more calmly, “I’m really very sorry about your grandson.  But I can assure you that King Arthur is nothing like Uther.  And this neck shackle was put on him by one of Cenred’s men, not Arthur’s.”

Merlin heard the blacksmith spit into the forge and the tiny hiss as it hit hot metal.  “Curse Cenred bringing Saxon mercenaries into our land, for they won’t leave once they have a foothold here.  Very well, if that traitor Cenred put the collar on him I’ll take it off for you.”

“Thank you, I’m carrying coin and I’ll pay you well for the risk you’re taking.”

Merlin felt the smith’s large hands gently turning the metal shackle and bit back a whimper as the edges of it grated over raw skin. 

“Easy.”  The blacksmith sounded unexpectedly gentle.  ”Old Ban isn’t going to hurt you.”  He told Arthur to hold the collar while he put a fine chisel against the heavy catch that held it closed.  “Hold it steady or it’ll bruise his neck when I use the hammer.”

As he struck the chisel, Ban muttered a spell under his breath, driving the chisel home with magical force.  He hit it once, twice, and then on the third tap the metal latch cracked into two pieces and the collar split open. 

Merlin gasped as he felt the magic rushing back to fill the emptiness inside him like a dam breaking to allow water to gush down a dried riverbed.  Immediately his headache began to ebb and he stretched his limbs as the aching joints began to feel normal again.

He blinked, and the blazing orange light that had stopped him seeing clearly before faded into the normal warm flickering from the forge.  He saw Ban for the first time, not terribly tall, but with the massive shoulders and huge arms that spoke of years of blacksmithing.  He had a thick red beard to match the long hair that he wore tied back from his face.

Merlin pushed himself up into a sitting position and swung his feet off the bed onto the floor.  “Ban, thank you.”

Ban shrugged.  “I guess I owed you help, for my grandson’s sake if nothing else.”

Arthur was staring at Ban’s hazel eyes curiously.  “Just now, when you broke the collar, you used dark magic.”

Ban regarded him suspiciously, obviously wondering if he was being accused of something.  “ I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your eyes glowed red,“ insisted Arthur.

“So?  That’s just another sort of magic.  It’s like blacksmith tools, some you use to break and bend, some to join and mend, you need both types to make something.  Seems like you’ve forgotten a lot in your kingdom since Uther’s purge.”

Merlin caught Arthur’s gaze and raised his eyebrows.  Arthur gave a slight tilt of his head showing that he was thinking the same thing.  There was no doubt that Ban didn’t regard the “dark” magic as anything inherently evil or addictive.

Arthur gave Ban several gold coins from the pouch at his belt, Ban bit one to gently to test its purity before dropping them with satisfaction into the pouch at his own waist.

It felt wonderful to be whole again and without pain, and Merlin pushed himself to his feet and stretched his arms.

“Do you know what Cenred has planned with this huge Saxon force?” Arthur asked Ban.

“Hardly,“ laughed Ban, “the military leaders aren’t in the habit of confiding their plans to blacksmiths.”

“But could you tell us where the tents of Cenred’s commanders are?”

“Of course,” frowned Ban.

Merlin narrowed his eyes at Arthur.  “What are you thinking?”

“It’s too good an opportunity to miss, we’re already undetected in the middle of the enemy camp, we must be able to pick up some useful information to take back with us.”

“You don’t look like any Saxons I’ve ever seen,” said Ban.

Merlin pursed his lips thoughtfully.  “I don’t know…perhaps I might be able to throw some sort of glamour over us…I haven’t tried anything quite like it before though, so I don’t know how well…”

Ban snorted skeptically.  “You’re mad, not even the Sidhe could do that without lots of preparation and a whole lot of ritual.”

Arthur shrugged.  "Try it.”

Merlin focused on Arthur and sent his magic out.  It wasn’t the magic of destruction he needed now, it was the warm, red magic of building and creation.  He sent the magic out in an invisible wave to gently encircle Arthur’s head and saw him shiver in surprise as he felt Merlin’s invisible touch running through his hair.

Slowly Merlin warped the image he was seeing, making the hair seem longer and plaiting it into two thick lengths.  Now for some facial hair, he recalled how Arthur looked occasionally when they were on a long patrol and he let his stubble grow for a few days.  He laid that memory over what he was seeing, and then used the magic to strengthen the image, and grow the stubble into a short golden beard.

A few more tweaks, to put a golden torc around the neck, and a large axe hanging from the belt, the wolfskin cape Arthur was already wearing could cover up the rest well enough.

Beside him Ban was gaping like a landed fish.  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”  He couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching one of Arthur’s thick Saxon plaits, gawping even more when his fingers passed through the seemingly solid plait as though it were mist. 

“It’s just an illusion,’ said Merlin, “I haven’t really changed him, but it might be good enough to let us walk through the camp I think.”

“Have you got a mirror?” asked Arthur curiously.

“I’ve got some copper ones I’ve made,” Ban went to the back of the hut and rummaged through some items before coming back with a cloth that he unwrapped to reveal a highly polished metal disc.  Arthur took it and stared in wonder at his reflection, turning his head this way and that to see the full effect.  “It’s wonderful.”  He handed the mirror to Merlin.  “Now you!”

Merlin used the magic again to spin illusion onto himself.  He lengthened his hair to below his shoulders and gave himself two black plaits falling from either temple, he gave himself a slightly shorter beard than Arthur’s.  The grey Saxon cape Arthur had wrapped him in covered him well enough, so he just put the illusion of a large Saxon brooch on one shoulder of it and a broad sword at his waist.

“You look so different,” said Arthur, “I’d recognise your eyes, but…I’d take you for a Saxon.  How long can you hold the illusions in place?” 

“I’ve no idea, if I feel myself losing control of them then we’d better get out fast.”

Ban gave them directions as to the least used routes through the camp to get to the tents of Cenred’s commanders.  As they turned to open the door Ban put one hand on Merlin’s shoulder to make him pause, then couldn’t speak for a moment as he watched in rapt amazement as his thumb disappeared and appeared as he moved it through the illusion of the brooch there.  He suddenly seemed to remember where he was.  “It was an honour to meet you, my lord, someone with magic like that…it was an honour.”

Merlin blushed, clapping his hand across Ban’s in farewell.  “Thank you, Ban, and thank you again for your help.”

Arthur gave Ban a nod of thanks, and then led the way through the maze of paths towards Cenred’s part of the camp.


	19. Chapter 19

A bitter wind whipped snow from the evening sky and sent it flying in spiteful, face-stinging gusts down the pathways between the lines of tents.  The air was alive with a thin, high-pitched whistling as the wind sang through the taut guyropes and with the creak and snap of leather walls straining to stay upright.  Any Saxons they passed were walking with their cloaks wrapped tightly around them and their heads down, just intent on getting wherever they were going and out of the foul weather.  No one seemed to be seeing through their disguise, and it was only when Merlin noticed the bushy, ice-flecked eyebrows of a passing warrior draw together in mild bewilderment that he swore softly.

“What?” hissed Arthur.

“I just realised, I forgot to create the illusion of snow settling on our hair.”  He ducked his head to hide the glow of his eyes as he remedied the fact.  Now when he looked across at Arthur it seemed as though snowflakes were hitting the long blond hair and starting to accumulate.

“Does that matter?”

“It’s silly little things like that that people notice, not consciously, I think they just notice something’s wrong without even quite knowing what it is and it makes them look twice.”

Arthur blinked.  “I suppose it must, I wouldn’t have thought of it.” 

Tents came into view ahead that were quite different in design to the A-frame ones they’d passed so far.  These were taller, and either circular or square and made from leather or canvas dyed in subdued greens, blues and reds.  “Cenred’s forces.”

The few men who were out and about on the paths here were knights or soldiers dressed in much the same style as an army from Camelot would be, although the predominant colour was emerald green rather than Pendragon red.  A few of them threw distrustful glances at the two 'Saxons' walking through this part of the camp.

“It looks like even Cenred’s own troops don’t trust these mercenaries they’ve brought in,“ whispered Arthur when a knight spat disdainfully on the path as they passed.

Because he knew it was Arthur beneath the illusion Merlin found it fascinating to see the differences in him, and had to resist the urge to keep sneaking glances.  The blond beard accentuated the strong jaw and gave an aura of statesmanlike wisdom to the youthful features.  He could easily imagine a bearded Arthur sitting on the throne in twenty years’ time, he might be older, but he would still be strikingly handsome once his beauty had matured into middle age. 

“Over there.”  Arthur nodded sharply at an oblong, maroon tent much larger than the rest.  “I think that’s the one we need to get inside.”

When he started forward, Merlin caught his arm.  “What are you doing?”

“Walking in.  If there’s anyone in there I’ll pretend to be drunk and back out again, if there’s no-one there…”

“What if they ask you who you are, you won’t sound like a Saxon?”

“Don’t overcomplicate things, Merlin.”

Before Merlin could raise another objection Arthur was swaggering across to the tent and pushing his way in as though he owned it.  After a tense time, that Merlin spent shifting anxiously from foot to foot like a dancing bear, there was a muffled thump from within the tent that made him freeze.  He imagined Arthur beaten to his knees with Cenred and ten angry knights standing over him.  Merlin was in an agony of indecision as to whether it would be better to rush in or to bide his time and stay hidden. 

Then the flap of the tent was pushed open and he sagged with relief as Arthur’s grinning face appeared and his hand beckoned him in.

The warmth and shelter of the tent was a sharp contrast to the weather outside.  The floor was covered with a scatter of intricately patterned rugs and the chairs dotted around were heavily carved and bore jewel-toned velvet cushions.  It was warmed by a large brazier that cast a warm flickering glow over the bright armorial banners that decorated the canvas walls, a brazier that also cast its light over one of Cenred’s knights lying face down on the floor.

“I was lucky, he wasn’t even guarding the place as such, he just happened to be here.  They obviously don’t expect enemies to be able to infiltrate this deep into the camp. Sloppy thinking!”   Arthur’s voice held the profound disdain of a natural commander seeing someone else not doing the job properly.  “I took him by surprise and knocked him out easily.”

“He’s not dead?”

“Wasn’t necessary, and besides, when he wakes up and tells them that it was one of their own Saxons that attacked him it’ll spread dissension nicely.”

Aside from the chairs the tent was furnished with several large chests and some small tables littered with scrolls, but Arthur ignored these and strode over to the long table that dominated the space.  Merlin followed to stand beside him and peer down at the large map that was spread across it.  On top of the map lay numerous little clay squares of different sizes and colours, he assumed they were to hold the parchment flat but it seemed peculiar to use so many and make them so small, surely one or two big ones would do the job better.

“Now this,” said Arthur, in a voice so breathy that he sounded almost sexually excited and that made Merlin’s gaze snap to him in amused surprise, “is a thing of beauty.  I’m stealing this idea to use myself.”

Merlin recognised it as a map of Albion, and a remarkably detailed one, but he was surprised Arthur was quite so impressed, he’d seen maps almost as good amongst Geoffrey’s scrolls.  He automatically searched for his village and found it almost hidden by a little green cube of clay.  He reached to shift the block over, but Arthur caught his long fingers before he could touch it.  “No, don’t move it.”

“I don’t understand.” 

“We’re here.”  Arthur pointed at the appropriate place on the map, it was almost hidden by small yellow cubes and a couple of green ones up in one corner.  “Specifically, we’re _here_.”  He pointed at one green cube in particular.

The light dawned.  “They’re companies of soldiers and knights.”

“He must have had his spies out all across the country.  Look at those blue blocks up in Mercia representing Bayard’s forces.  And Camelot…those red blocks…I assume the size of the block is an estimate of the size of the forces…or perhaps it’s also how effective they are…perhaps the knights are that large red block there…I think he’s pretty damn close to being right on how many men we can muster for battle.  Gods!  I wish there was a way of taking this with us.”

Merlin grinned.  “Maybe there is.  Look for a large piece of blank parchment amongst these scrolls, the blank back of something will do.”

They’d come a long way from their original relationship, Arthur didn’t even blink at Merlin carelessly telling him what to do.  Instead they both began searching through the scrolls that scattered the other tables.  Most of them were frustratingly covered on both sides, Merlin could erase one with magic if necessary, but it would be quicker and easier to just find one that was already suitable.     

Arthur paused in the act of unrolling yet another parchment and looked sideways at him.  “What is it?”

“What?”

“You keep looking at me.”

“It’s just the,” Merlin circled his hand in a vague gesture that encompassed the blond beard and long hair, “you look very…barbarian King…it rather suits you.”

Arthur burst out laughing.  “Are you hoping I’m going to sling you over my shoulder like some abducted maiden and then carry you to a bed of furs?”

Merlin’s eyes widened like a startled deer and two bright patches of colour appeared high on his cheeks.

“Merlin?”  Arthur’s voice came out in a startled squeak that he coughed gruffly to banish.  “You never cease to amaze me, but perhaps now isn’t the time.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t…it’s just…maybe we should go back to…”  He felt ready to sink through the floor with embarrassment.

Arthur saved him from further stammering by smirking.  “I’m not saying it’ll _never_ be the time.”

Merlin gulped but couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he turned hastily back to what he was doing.

A moment later Arthur’s voice announced, “I’ve found one.”

They carried the scroll over to the table and Arthur held it open beside the map while Merlin extended one open hand above it.  He recalled the spell he had used to transfer the Seal of Nobility for Lancelot and used it again now to copy the map onto the clean parchment.  Arthur took a sharp intake of breath as intricate lines began to scroll across the bare parchment, unrolling and twisting with the beauty of a flower unfolding.  As the map appeared on the surface, so did the clay blocks, each one of them represented by a small coloured square in the correct position.

He’d almost finished when there was a low groan from the floor over by the brazier. 

“He’s waking up,” said Arthur.

Merlin put a final push into his magic and finished the copy, Arthur quickly rolled it up and tucked it safely beneath his cloak and into his belt.    

“Time to get out of here.”

Merlin couldn’t agree more.

They’d only taken a couple of steps towards the tent flap when it was pushed open and three of Cenred’s knights entered.  They were wearing chainmail over green tunics, and laughing at some joke one of them must have made, but the laughter ceased abruptly when they saw Merlin and Arthur in the tent.  Their gaze took in the semi-conscious man lying on the floor and the tent was loud with the rasp of swords being hastily drawn from their scabbards.

“What are you doing in here, you Saxon dogs?” 

Arthur didn’t break the illusion of being Saxon by speaking, instead he pulled his sword and launched straight into an attack.  There was a loud clash of blades as the knight barely blocked Arthur’s swing and Merlin knew they’d have to finish this quickly and be away before they were heard and anyone nearby came to help.  The other two knights ran at Merlin, he wasn’t holding a weapon and he assumed that they’d decided he was less of a threat than Arthur and were planning to take him down quickly before helping their companion. 

Merlin pulled the dark magic up to his fingers and pushed it into the chest of the nearest knight who was already pulling back his sword to run Merlin through.  Before the knight could complete the movement Merlin felt the magic twisting around the knight’s furiously pumping heart and he squeezed it tight.

The knight’s face flushed horribly and his sword arm dropped to his side.  He stared at Merlin with something that looked almost like betrayal, as though Merlin wasn’t fighting honestly somehow.  Since he‘d been about to chop down an unarmed man, that didn’t seem very fair, even so, Merlin felt dirty somehow and flinched backwards, almost wanting to undo his action.  He knew he couldn’t, so he steeled himself to at least make the death quick and wrenched his magic harder so that the knight fell to the ground and lay still.

Merlin only realised that he’d completely ignored the other knight when a blade whipped up so close to his face that he could feel the breeze of it stir his hair.  He realised it was Arthur’s sword when another blade crashed down against it inches from his cheek. 

Arthur glared at him, seeming to be annoyed with Merlin for almost getting himself killed, though Merlin thought irritably that it was hardly intentional.

Merlin sent out his magic again to stop the knight’s heart, but Arthur had already found an opening in the man’s defense and a blow to the knight’s neck sent him crashing to the floor in a fount of arterial blood.

The sound of alarmed voices came from outside and Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shoulder and pulled him towards the back wall of the tent.

“Quick, let’s get out of here.”  Arthur slashed the canvas open with his sword and they stepped through into the narrow alley at the back of the tent, then started to run. 

Luck was in their favour and the snow was falling so hard now that the conditions were almost blizzard like and it was difficult to see even a few feet ahead. 

They darted down several paths before they slowed down and began to walk, as calmly as possible, towards the edge of the encampment.  Merlin glanced across at Arthur and couldn’t help shaking his head with an indulgent smile; Arthur’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes bright with excitement, his jaunty walk spoke of the fact that danger like this made him feel more alive than almost anything else.  Far behind them they could hear the shouts of men starting to pursue them, but they reached the edge of the camp without being stopped and were able to circle their way back up the side of the valley to where they had left the horse.   


	20. Chapter 20

Almost as soon as they reached Camelot’s territories they were met by Lancelot leading a small number of knights. 

Sir Griflet, one of the newest knights to come through training, gave a proud, toothy grin and immediately gave up his horse to Merlin saying that he would follow them back at a slower pace.  Merlin felt uncomfortable that Griflet was yielding his mount to him, and was in the middle of refusing the offer when Arthur reminded him in a low voice that he was now the Court Sorcerer as well as his consort and that the knight would feel slighted if he didn’t borrow the horse.

Griflet preened under Merlin’s thanks as though he was being praised by the king himself.  While he appreciated the gesture and Griflet seemed a very nice young man, Merlin reflected that it was a little bizarre that a mere change of title could have this effect on those around him and wondered how much Griflet would have noticed him when he was merely Arthur’s manservant.

The knights formed their escort for the remainder of the journey and Lancelot explained that Leon had remained at Camelot, trying to keep quiet the fact that the new King had disappeared, meanwhile sending out patrols to scour the land for news of Arthur.

They gave him a potted version of events as they rode and Lancelot eyed with a wince the raw scar that the shackle had left on Merlin’s neck. 

“I’m glad you’re safe, my friend,” he murmured quietly.

Merlin looked at him gratefully and it was a relief to be able to talk to someone who understood him as well as Lancelot.

Although he had begun to strike up a close friendship with Gwaine he missed the closeness that they used to have; their shared past hadn’t happened in this universe and they’d only met relatively recently when Morgana had used Gwaine in a plot to try to murder him. 

He missed that closeness, and therefore treasured even more that his relationship with Lancelot in this universe seemed to be very similar to what he’d had before. 

From his position riding at Merlin’s other side, Arthur watched them intently, before realising that Merlin had noticed his scrutiny and switching his gaze to the road ahead of them.  Merlin wondered whether the memory of Gwen’s infidelity was haunting him.  He wanted to assure him that his anxiety was groundless; even Merlin’s love for Freya had been a pale shadow of what he felt for Arthur.

Although Merlin had sometimes felt almost trapped by his own devotion, particularly in the past, when Arthur hadn’t always been the easiest person to serve, he also knew that for him Arthur would always be the midday sun, with everyone else mere flickering candles at best. 

Merlin had been avoiding Gwen for a whole host of reasons, now was the time to change that, perhaps it would bring Arthur peace of mind to see her happy with Lancelot, and to be able to relax in the knowledge that Merlin was happy to be Arthur’s and his alone.

So when they reached the castle and an anxious Leon ran to meet them in the courtyard, Merlin suggested that Gwen also attend the small meeting that Arthur wanted to hold in the Great Hall.

From the corner of his eye he saw Lancelot tense with a hope that he was desperately trying to hide.

Arthur looked down as he kicked one booted foot pensively at the cobblestones.  “She had difficulty accepting what you did to Morgana.”

“I’ve seen her since then, and she’s come to terms with it.”  That was a bit of an exaggeration, but if it would smooth the way…

Lancelot coughed.  “Sire,” he said earnestly, “I believe her wise counsel would be an aide to any discussions.”

It took a moment before Arthur looked up, his voice was bright and slightly brittle.  “You’re right of course, Sir Lancelot, she was always both wise and kind.”

Merlin and Arthur went to their room and quickly bathed the grime of the last few days from their bodies before changing into fresh clothes and going down to the Great Hall.  Gauis, Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon and Guinevere were already waiting for them around the long table and rose to their feet as they entered.  Arthur briskly waved them down again and strode to the chair at the head of the table.     

Arthur looked at Merlin as he took the seat between Arthur and Gaius.  “We need to get another round table built, particularly before the kings and queens of the other lands start arriving in a few days for the coronation.”

“A round table,” said Gwaine, “sounds a bit bizarre.”

“That way there’s no ‘head’ of the table and everyone around it is equal, we had one in the other universe,” explained Merlin.  “I’ll get onto the carpenters tomorrow and give them the dimensions.  Do you want the knights’ names painted on it like before?”

“Not this time, they can decorate it as they like, but we’ll be using it for all types of meetings, not just meetings of the knights, so perhaps it would be better without.  Besides, it’s not going to feel right to do that until we find Elyan and Percival.” 

Gwen had been looking about her nervously, but then stiffened in surprise and her gaze shot to Arthur’s face when she heard her brother’s name, he wondered what Lancelot had told her about the circumstances in the other world that they’d come from.

Gaius nodded thoughtfully.  “A round table sounds like an innovative idea, Sire.”

Once the servants who were placing out shallow plates of nuts and dried fruit on the table had left the room, and goblets of wine had been poured, Arthur graciously welcomed Gwen to their meeting. 

“In future I would like all the people of Camelot to be able to achieve their full potential on merit, not by reason of their birth or status, and you, Guinevere, have always shown yourself to give excellent counsel and I would welcome your attendance at our future meetings.”

Gwen flushed prettily and ducked her head in embarrassment, her glossy ringlets shivering and her long lashes fluttering against the perfect, dark honey of her cheeks.  Merlin looked at her in dismay and wondered how he had ever thought that he could compete with that.  No doubt Arthur was realising anew how very adorable she was.  He gazed unhappily at the tabletop.

A sharp kick to his shin under the table made him yelp and he had to turn it into a choked cough when his friends sitting around the table looked at him in surprise.  He glared at Arthur who sent him a look in return which said, as openly as if he’d actually vocalized it, ‘I can see what you’re thinking and you’re being a prat.’

As soon as he saw Merlin’s expression clear, Arthur turned his attention back to the others and flung across the table the copy of Cenred’s strategic map.

Arthur explained what exactly they were looking at, and then described the events of the last few days.

“Come to me after the meeting, Merlin, and I’ll give you some salve for the bruises and cuts,” said Gaius quietly.

Merlin nodded gratefully.

Leon seemed to visibly relax as the meeting went on.  He’d entered the room as a bundle of raw nerve endings that he was trying to hide behind a veneer of calm politeness, but once he realised that Arthur hadn’t just taken off on a mission of his own without trusting him enough to tell him, but instead had had to disappear in a moment as a matter of life or death, he seemed to settle and regain his confidence.  “Can we afford to hesitate when there is a Saxon force of this size so close to our borders?” he asked.

“I’m confident that his plan is to attack Queen Annis’ lands.  I’m also almost certain that he won’t make a move until all the visiting nobles go home after the coronation.”

Gwaine scooped a handful of hazelnuts from the dish nearby and threw one at his mouth, it missed and made a small pitter patter as it hit the floor behind him.  Totally unabashed by all the eyes on him, he threw another kernel at his mouth, caught this one and gave it a quick chew before saying, “how can you possibly know that?”

“Cenred is a coward at heart, he wants to attack when he feels safest, that was why he hoped to kidnap Merlin and prevent me helping Annis.”

Merlin found himself looking at his hands and shifting his shoulders uncomfortably as he became the sudden focus of six pairs of eyes.

“Thank the Gods you brought him safely back to us.”

Merlin’s gaze snapped up, startled, when he heard Gwen’s voice.  She was looking at him across the table, and her expression was rich with apology.  He answered her hesitant smile, and then found he had to look away. 

Arthur moved smoothly on to cover Merlin’s confusion. “I believe Cenred will not make a move while Annis is meeting here with any kingdoms who might give her aid, he’ll wait until she returns to Caerleon after the coronation and hope that he can cut off any couriers she sends to the surrounding lands for help.”

“So what are you planning to do, Sire.”

“Leon, you’ve know me long enough to start calling me Arthur,” grinned Arthur, ”and, to answer your question, I’m hoping to form several kingdoms into one army to fight this threat to all of us.”

“The kingdoms have never fought together, they’ll never agree to it,” scoffed Gwaine, spitting fragments of hazelnut over the tabletop as he spoke.

Merlin tried not to roll his eyes, he was almost sure Gwaine was doing it on purpose just to be perverse.

“Not until now, no, but this is an army brought in from outside these islands and which threatens all of us,” responded Arthur levelly. 

“And are you going to show them this map?” asked Lancelot dubiously.

“I think not,” said Arthur, appreciating where Lancelot’s misgivings lay, “I don’t want any of the other rulers to have a clear understanding of any other land’s defensive capabilities handed to them on a silver platter.  I trust some of them a certain amount and others of them not at all.  No, Merlin...” he turned his head to address Merlin directly, “Will you make copies of this map but showing only one land’s troops on each of them, so that I can hand each regent a map as proof of what I’m saying, but which shows only their own troops but no-one else’s.”

Merlin nodded eagerly, “I can do that.”

They talked for a while longer, and then the meeting adjourned.

Once the room was empty save for himself and Arthur, Merlin rose to his feet and stretched wearily.  “I’ll wander along to Gaius and get that salve.”

Arthur stood from the table and stepped up to stand behind him, circling his arms around Merlin’s waist in a warm, comforting weight.  Merlin relaxed into his embrace, tilting his head backwards to rest against Arthur’s shoulder.  “Gods!  I’m tired.”

“I’m not surprised; we’ve had a full couple of days.” Arthur peppered kisses along the side of Merlin’s neck, and each one soothed a tiny bit of the tension from Merlin’s body.

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”  Merlin was almost purring.

“I don’t like to ask, and I know you’re under pressure with the coronation looming and everything else, but do you think you could have some plans ready to show the regents concerning this scheme with the new houses and streets in the lower town?”

Merlin shrugged and nodded, feeling Arthur’s lips brush against his moving skin in a most delightful way.  “I think so.  Though I would have thought it’d be the last thing on your mind what with the threat of war?”

“I think the idea of fighting together, and the plans for building a peace together, would be a potent combination.  I’d like to fire them up with the first, and intrigue them with the second.”

Merlin twisted in his arms and kissed him deeply before drawing off to reply, “I’m sure I can come up with something.”

Arthur chuckled, “as you well know, _anything_ you can come up with is always welcome.”

The comment was so absurd that Merlin found himself giggling, and, since he was a fully grown man and most certainly didn’t giggle he turned it into a bit of a snuffling cough, then reached down to give Arthur a quick, affectionate grope to distract Arthur’s mind from any sarcastic comment he might have had forming.

It seemed to work very well… in fact almost too well, and it was another full candlemark before Merlin finally left the Great Hall to go and see Gaius.  He hastily closed the door before the guards outside could glimpse Arthur lying exhausted across the table with his breeches around his ankles and then used all his new-found influence to sternly inform them that Arthur was not to be disturbed.

Merlin walked through the corridors to Gaius, smiling with private contentment all the way.


	21. Chapter 21

When Merlin made his next expedition to the Lower Town, Arthur tasked Gwaine to accompany him.  Merlin felt that perhaps he ought to protest that he was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but to be honest he was pleased to have someone with him, a part of him still felt deeply shaken by being captured.

“Calm down, friend.”

“What?”

“You’re as jumpy as a virgin in a brothel,” said Gwaine, his voice light, but all the time carefully eyeing the houses around them, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Merlin’s back stiffened, “I’m not entirely defenseless you know, I could kill you with a thought.”

“I saw what you did to that patrol in the forest, I believe you, but it’s not unmanly if you don’t want to do everything alone.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “people keep talking about me as the greatest warlock who ever lived, and then I get taken prisoner by some minor army captain and I can’t do a single thing about it.”

“I’ve been taken prisoner in my time,” said Gwaine seriously, “having no choice about what happens to you can be…difficult…it changes how you feel about yourself…you lose confidence…”

“When did it happen to you?”

Gwaine laughed and tossed his head as though throwing the memories away. “I’ll tell you some time, but haven’t you got some streets to map?”

Merlin blinked at his surroundings, while they’d been talking they’d reached the market square.  They walked around for a while and then took a table at the inn that Merlin had been to before.  They talked easily while Merlin sketched down more street plans.  Merlin glanced out of the small, dirty window to re-check the width of the market square against his drawing and froze.

“What is it?”

“That boy there, that’s Bryn.”

“The little bastard who poisoned you?”  Gwaine’s gaze snapped up to search the crowd outside.

“See him?  He’s crouching behind that man in the red tunic at the fabric stall.”  Merlin shook his head disbelievingly.  “He’s trying to cut the purse from his belt.  Gods!  That child doesn’t change.”

Gwaine surged to his feet and was already half out the door before Merlin could react.  Merlin watched him dodge through the crowd, saw the moment when Bryn noticed him, and then the small boy darted off with Gwaine in pursuit. 

He considered getting up and running after Gwaine, but that tactic had ended disastrously when he’d been here before, so he decided to stay put.  There were a few men drinking at various tables in the tavern, so surely he should be safe enough here.  His knee bounced nervously under the table as he scanned the faces of the drinkers, finding himself looking for the sharp, dark beard and pitiless eyes of Captain Parris.  None of the men looked anything like him and that should have made him relax, but it didn’t.

Where was Gwaine?  Surely he should be back by now, with or without the boy.  It must be a trap, he should try and find him.  Merlin rose to his feet, hastily tucking the ink pot and quill into the pouch at his belt, and then rolling up the scroll and tucking it through the belt next to it.  He took a few steps to the door and hesitated, what if the trap was similar to before, and as soon as he got into the side streets on his own Parris was waiting with some new inventive way to take him prisoner.  He felt the eyes of the tavern drinkers watching him curiously as he hovered near the door in an agony of indecisiveness.  

He forced his tight shoulder muscles to loosen and mentally shook himself, this was ridiculous, all the dangerous situations he’d been through and for some reason his capture by Parris was affecting him out of all proportion, he hadn’t even been badly injured.  This was going to stop now.  He would not allow himself to be cowed or changed by Parris, he was Emrys and he was part of Camelot’s protection, and more importantly, Arthur’s protection.  He opened the door of the Tavern and set out boldly into the crowd.    

He caught up with Gwaine a few streets away; he had hold of Bryn’s ear and was dragging him urgently back in the direction of the tavern.  Gwaine saw Merlin and gave him a triumphant grin which suddenly morphed into an expression of abject horror.  “Oh Gods!  I ran off and left you alone.  Merlin, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin waved his apology away.  “Nothing happened, I’m fine.”

Gwaine looked angrily at Bryn, “I was so intent on catching him that I didn’t even think it could be another trap.  Arthur is going to kill me.”

“He doesn’t have to know,” said Merlin, “anyway, what are we going to do with him?”  He looked at the squirming child who at least had the grace to look a bit abashed when faced by the man he’d betrayed.  No wonder Gwaine had him by the ear, when the dirty, brown hair was pushed aside Bryn had fairly large ears, Merlin found himself smiling.

“Take him back to the castle and chuck him in a dungeon would be my advice, he’s a treacherous little thief.”

Merlin winced.  “How old is he, Gwaine?  Five?  Six?”  Merlin crouched down, making sure he was out of reach if Bryn decided to kick out.  “How old are you?’

“Dunno,” replied Bryn sullenly.

“Where do you live?”

“Here.”

Merlin looked round in surprise, this street wasn’t as run-down as some of them.  “In one of these houses?”

Bryn snorted.  “Not likely.  How would I live in a house?  I live here.”  His tiny shoulders shrugged.  “Around.”  

“Where’s your mother?”  asked Gwaine sternly, shaking him slightly.

“Ouch!  Leave it out!  She’s dead.”

“Who looks after you?” asked Merlin.

Bryn stared at him blankly.

“When did your mother die?”

“I was only small, we lived in a little room then.  She had pains in her belly for a long time, she said it was like knives inside her.  Then one morning, she wouldn’t wake up.  I was stupid and I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat by the bed for a couple of days.”

Merlin and Gwaine exchanged a horrified look. 

“Then my Dad came home, we didn’t used to see him hardly at all, Mam had some coppers saved in the pot hidden under the bed, so he took them and then left again.”

“He just went away and left you alone with your dead mother.”  Merlin shuddered.

Bryn continued carelessly, “after another day I got too hungry and went out to beg for food, but I got lost and couldn’t find my way back, and that was that.”

Merlin straightened up.  “Gwaine?”

“I know, it’s heartbreaking, I agree, but there are a hundred stories like this in any major town, you can’t take the responsibility for them on.  And don’t forget he helped to have you captured.”

They’d been standing still for a while now, and Bryn was shifting restlessly as the cold soaked through the rags on his feet.

“What happened to the gold coins that Parris and my friend gave you?’

For the first time Bryn seemed genuinely distressed and his blue eyes glinted with unshed tears.  “Some bigger boys took ‘em off me.”

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Unless you want Gwaine to continue to pull you along by your ear, then you’d better give me your hand.”

Bryn reluctantly took Merlin’s hand, and Merlin sent out a cool blue spiral of magic to tie their wrists together.  Bryn felt it and his eyes widened in surprise but he didn’t seem afraid, just curious.  “Is that magic?”

“It is,” said Merlin, “and now we’re tied together, so you needn’t bother trying to run away.”

“What are you going to do with him,” asked Gwaine.

“I don’t know,” said Merlin, “but first we’re going to go to the cobblers in the next street and get him some shoes.  I’m not making him walk all the way back to the castle in those rags.”

The cobbler’s shop was small and dark, the walls lined with shelves bearing shoes and boots of all types.  The thin, lank-haired cobbler looked up from behind his counter as they walked in.  He was sitting tacking a new heel onto a boot, and the tap-tapping paused when he saw Bryn enter.   He was obviously about to screech at him to get out, but then realised that he was accompanied by Merlin and Gwaine and instead he came round the counter to meet them in a welter of obsequious pleasure.  “The Court Sorcerer and a knight in my humble premises.  I couldn’t be more honoured, how can I help you, sirs?”

Merlin told him what he wanted and the cobbler tried to hide his disgusted sniff as he guided Bryn to a chair.  To be fair, Merlin couldn’t quite blame him, the boy did smell a bit rank.

Various pairs of children’s boots and shoes were brought out and Merlin told Bryn to choose what he wanted.

At first Bryn glared sourly at him as though it must be some sort of huge practical joke, but then when he realised he was serious, his eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

Gwaine shook his head, “You’re starting up a whole mess of trouble for yourself, my friend.”

“I’m just going to get him a pair of shoes and a few clothes and then we’ll take him back to the castle and find someone to take him on as an apprentice.  And that’ll be it.”

“You think you’re going to shake him off now?” said Gwaine with something between a laugh and a despairing sigh.  “Look at him, he’s staring at you like you were personally responsible for making the sun come up this morning.”

Merlin rolled his eyes.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Bryn looked at the cobbler and abruptly pointed at Merlin’s boots.  “I want shoes just like them,” he said decisively.

Merlin winced as Gwaine caught his eye and smirked.  “Told you.” 


	22. Chapter 22

When they got back to the castle Merlin sought out Gwen and asked for her help. 

“He desperately needs a good scrub and a haircut, though it’s so matted it might just need to be shorn quite short.”

“Of course I’ll help with the poor little mite,” cooed Gwen, crouching to Bryn’s level and reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Bryn kicked her just below one knee.

“Bryn!” Merlin shook him.  “You are going to go with Gwen and do exactly what she says, and there will be _no kicking_ , do you understand me?” 

Bryn looked at Merlin as though he were being betrayed by his only friend, but then let out a sullen puff of air and nodded.

“I’m so sorry, Gwen.”  Merlin spread his hands apologetically.

“That’s alright,” but her smile was a little weaker as she gingerly rubbed her leg.  “I probably surprised him, I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”

Merlin wasn’t so sure, but he nodded encouragingly as Gwen took Bryn’s hand and began to lead him away.  Merlin had a sudden afterthought and called after him, “And no punching, hair pulling, spitting or biting either.”

The boy’s jaunty shoulders seemed to visibly deflate and Merlin grinned at his retreating back.

 

******************************

 

“Has it been delivered?”

"It’s in your room,“ said Gaius, “or should I say, it’s in your old room.”

Merlin darted up the stairs and pushed the door open, his narrow bed had been pushed against one wall, and the floor was now dominated by a large table.  Sitting in the middle of the tabletop was a big, lumpy bundle wrapped in damp, grey muslin.  Merlin picked open one wet corner of cloth to look inside, then prodded an index finger experimentally into the red clay.

“The potter was intrigued to know what you are planning on doing with so much clay and I must say I am as well.”

“It’s for this town renovation thing that Arthur’s got me working on, I thought a model might impress the visiting royalty more than a drawing.”

One white eyebrow arched up towards Gaius’ hairline.  “I wasn’t aware you had any skills at model making.”

“I haven’t,” laughed Merlin, “but I don’t intend to do it with my hands…at least not literally.”  He wiggled the fingers of his right hand and blue flames flickered round them briefly like marsh lights.

Gaius couldn’t help flinching and had to check his instinctive urge to look over his shoulder.  “It still stops my heart every time you use magic openly.”

“I know, some mornings I wake up and wonder for a moment whether it’s all been a set up to trick me and I’m going to be hauled off to a pyre.” 

“When I visit Uther, to take him sleeping drafts or salves for the aches of old war wounds, he pretends that he’s come to terms with what has happened but, underneath the facade he puts on, he’s consumed by bitterness.  You know about the alliance he tried to make using those cyphered messages he was having smuggled out.  He would bring down the kingdom to have his revenge on you and on the son he thinks betrayed him.  Heaven help you if he ever manages to get either of you in his power, beware of him, Merlin.”

A cold shudder ran down Merlin’s spine.  “Believe me, I’m wary of him.  Has there been any progress in finding out who he was contacting.”

Gaius looked surprised.  “I assumed it must be Cenred?”

“I don‘t think so, the message we intercepted talked about wanting me dead, whereas Cenred was hoping to have me captured alive.”

“Couldn’t Cenred just be telling Uther what he wants to hear to secure his support when he invades?”

“Possibly I suppose, but what help is an imprisoned king going to be to an invading army?  I wonder whether it’s someone completely different who wants Uther back on the throne.”  Merlin rubbed his chin thoughtfully and left a smear of red clay across his jaw.  “If Arthur was disinherited, or worse, who would be Uther’s heir?”

Gaius frowned.  “Now that Morgana is dead… Uther doesn’t have any living blood relatives.  I suppose he might look to relatives by marriage, Ygraine’s brother perhaps.”

“Agravaine.”

“You told me of his alliance with Morgana in your universe, but it didn’t happen here.  You mustn’t jump to any conclusions, Merlin, as far as we know he is completely innocent.”

“A scorpion is a scorpion whatever world you put it in.”

They left Merlin’s old bedroom and walked back down the stairs into the main room, Merlin noticed that the leech tank was desperately in need of a clean and the room needed a good sweep.  “You need a new apprentice, Gaius, now that I’m not able to help out here so much.”

“I do,” said Gaius, “my old bones aren’t up to doing everything.”

“I think I might have just the boy,” grinned Merlin, “so long as I tell him firmly not to kick you.”

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”

“One stern look from you, and you’ll have him doing everything you say.”

Merlin told him about Bryn and Gaius agreed to give him a chance.  As Merlin turned to leave, Gaius grabbed him by the shoulder, spat on his own sleeve and rubbed away the smear of clay from Merlin’s jaw.

“You’re the Court Sorcerer now,” he said, his watery, blue eyes shining with pride, “can’t have you wandering around the castle like a ragamuffin.”

 

******************************

 

Arthur was predictably furious that Merlin had brought Bryn into the castle and set him up as Gaius’ apprentice. 

“What were you _thinking_ , no don’t answer that, you _weren’t_.”

Merlin had to trot to keep up with him as Arthur strode through the corridors.  “I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“He didn’t really mean it.”

Arthur snorted and shook his head.

“He’s just a boy, Arthur.”

“So was Mordred and look how that turned out.”  Arthur must have realised that Merlin wasn’t by his side, and abruptly stopped and turned.  He retraced his steps to where Merlin had stopped.  He seemed to see something in Merlin’s expression that made him wince.

“I’m sorry, that was below the belt.”

“No,” Merlin’s voice came out more unsteadily than he intended, “No, you’re right, I almost caused your death by helping Mordred.”

“What else could you do, he was just a boy.”

“Do you think I’ve done it again?”  Merlin felt all the blood leave his face.  “Do you think Bryn will end up doing you harm?”

“Gods!  Merlin, I don’t have the sight like Morgana, it wasn’t a premonition, I was just angry.”

Merlin’s fingers went to the silver pendant around his neck, unconsciously rubbing the Pendragon dragon that faced the world and the hawk on the reverse.  Arthur’s hand covered his and stilled it.  “Don’t fret.  Come on, I want to be in the courtyard before King Bayard rides in."

"Do you think he'll remember me?"

Arthur grinned.  "You got him thrown in a dungeon for trying to poison me, I'm pretty sure he'll remember you."

"Perhaps that didn't happen in this world," said Merlin hopefully.

"Sorry, but I already checked, it did."  Arthur gave Merlin a slight push between the shoulder blades that got him walking again.  "Oh, and well done on the red, velvet tunic you're wearing, very appropriate, you're starting to look the part." 

"I didn't want to shame you." 

"You could never do that, but it was a wise choice.  The last time Bayard saw you you were a servant, it's good to remind him and the other rulers who arrive for the coronation that your status has radically changed.  We don't want anyone accidentally forgetting themselves and insulting you and causing an incident."

"I wouldn't take offense if one of them forgot and treated me like a servant," shrugged Merlin.

"Maybe not," said Arthur darkly, "but I certainly would."

"I wonder what he'll give you as a coronation gift," said Merlin mischievously, "do you think he'll steer away from goblets?"

Arthur burst into laughter and was still grinning when they reached the courtyard.


	23. Chapter 23

The next two weeks passed quickly; Merlin spent his time busy with doing the individualized copies that Arthur had asked for of Cenred’s tactical scroll, creating the clay model of the town plan, beginning to learn Greek with Geoffrey, and being followed around by Bryn like an adoring puppy during every free moment that Gaius allowed the boy.

Each time a regent and their retinue arrived for the coronation a panting messenger from Arthur would abruptly appear at the doorway and Merlin would have to drop whatever he was doing and race off to dress appropriately and join Arthur in the courtyard to greet them. 

The various regents displayed a radically different variety of both ostentation and warmth.

Queen Annis arrived with a delegation of inconspicuously dressed warriors in brown wools and furs, but her respect for Arthur appeared genuine.  She greeted Merlin warmly and seemed quietly amused that the young servant who had once juggled eggs in front of her like a court jester was now meeting her as an equal and kissing the back of her hand.

In contrast, King Esa rode up amidst a blaze of warriors glittering in gold plate and cabochon gems.

Bryn had managed to sneak away from his duties for Gaius and was still tagging along at Merlin’s heels when he arrived at Arthur’s side.  Now that his messy hair had been cut, Bryn’s large ears were obvious and glowed translucently red in the icy sunlight.

Arthur glowered when he saw the boy lurking behind Merlin and Merlin gave him a half-shrug in reply.  He might as well decide he didn’t want to have a shadow. 

While on his horse King Esa looked a huge man; his dark beard curled down over a barrel chest and despite the cold his arms were bare save for thick, engraved, gold arm rings that seemed to strain around the massive corded muscles.  But when he dismounted and strode across to meet them, it became apparent that most of his strength was in his upper body.  He was slightly shorter than Arthur and reminded Merlin of a mastiff; he was all square, rugged face and aggressive shoulders, tapering away to legs that looked inconsequential by comparison.

“King Esa, we are grateful for your presence.”  Esa took Arthur’s proffered arm and they gripped each other’s forearms in a tense grip before releasing.

“King Esa, it is an honour to meet you.”  Merlin smiled warmly and extended his arm but Esa’s scowl was fixed on Arthur and he seemed not to notice it.

“It’s a long journey down from Bernicia and the weather is filthy up there,” Esa growled at Arthur, “it would have been more civilised to hold a coronation in the Spring.” 

Still standing with his hand outstretched Merlin felt clumsy and faintly ridiculous; he hesitantly dropped it back to his side. 

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.  “Perhaps so, but times are restless and it’s good to take the opportunity to reaffirm old alliances.  May I present my Consort and the Court Sorcerer, Merlin Pendragon.”

Esa’s hazel eyes rested on Merlin reluctantly, in much the same way as they might on a piece of dog excrement.  “You were Prince Arthur’s manservant, weren’t you?”   

“I was _King_ Arthur’s manservant, yes,“ corrected Merlin mildly.  “Although the official coronation is a few days away, Arthur has been ruling wisely as _King_ of Camelot since the Yule Feast.”

“I must admit I’m confused as to why a coronation is taking place, I was under the impression King Uther was still alive.”

“My father has sacrificed enough of his health for Camelot’s sake, he has decided to step back and enjoy the fruits of his labours,” said Arthur smoothly.

“I look forward to seeing my old friend.” Esa’s smile was all teeth like a dog growling.

Merlin’s time studying with Geoffrey had left him with a potted knowledge of each of the visiting regents and he knew that Esa was no friend of either Uther or Camelot, at best he was only a reluctant ally.

“I fear my father is unlikely to be well enough to join the celebrations,” said Arthur.

“Perhaps I might visit him in his rooms then?”

“If he’s well enough, perhaps,” said Arthur noncommittally.

“Ah, and I wanted to bring you a gift, and what greater gift is there than family.”  Esa gestured with his hand and a familiar figure stepped forward from where he had been hidden within the mass of glittering warriors.

He was dressed all in black, his hair sleek as a raven’s wing, and his long, pale face wore a broad grin.  “Nephew!  I’m overjoyed to see you again.”

“Agravaine!”  Merlin couldn’t help breathing the name aloud. 

Agravaine threw him a sudden startled glance, obviously wondering how Merlin could possibly recognise him.

“Uncle!”  Arthur stepped forward and embraced Agravaine, slapping him on the back with every semblance of pleasure.  Merlin wondered when Arthur had learned to disguise his feelings so well, he’d come a long way from the impetuous youth who displayed every fleeting emotion in his expression.

Arthur and Agravaine exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and when Merlin judged that it was time he gestured for the deputy-seneschal to step forward and addressed Esa.  “Would you like Kieran to see you and your men to your accommodation?  I’m sure you must be weary.”

Esa sneered.  ”Is this the new fashion, Arthur, am I to be introduced to _every_ servant in the castle?”

Kieran’s face flamed and he stared fixedly at the toes of his boots. 

Several of Esa’s warriors chuckled openly, and Merlin knew that the insult undermined his own status as well.  Merlin’s back stiffened and he shot Arthur a warning glance.

Arthur smiled bleakly, “I’ve found that if you only deign to notice those of high birth, then you are oblivious to some of your realm’s greatest treasures.”

“Perhaps your nobles are simply too dissolute if you have to look elsewhere,” said Esa.

Arthur’s lips were a thin line and his shoulders were tight knots of muscle beneath his red velvet jacket. 

Agravaine chuckled lightly, “Come Esa, we mustn’t keep our hosts standing out here in the cold all morning, and my arse is aching from that long ride, I could do with a hot bath.”

Esa burst into laughter and slapped Agravaine on the shoulder.  “You’re right my friend, well lead on Kay, or whatever your name is.”  Then added in a whispered aside to Agravaine, “though I don’t know why I should care.”

As the warriors followed Agravaine and their king up the stairs, one of them, a huge man with tangled red hair, who had obviously been emboldened by Esa’s insults, stumbled heavily into Merlin almost knocking him over.  The man’s thick gold arm ring struck Merlin’s upper arm like a blow from a shield.

“My apologies, my lord, the stones are icy.” he said ducking his head, but Merlin saw his quickly hidden smirk.

Arthur’s attention was focused thoughtfully on Agravaine’s retreating back and he missed the incident.  Merlin scowled at the warrior and rubbed his bruised arm, it was a calculated insult to himself and therefore to Arthur.  But it wasn’t worth breaking an alliance over the petty action of a warrior trying to impress his companions.  He and Arthur had already discussed the fact that some of their guests would find it very hard to accept the raising of a commoner to the role of consort.  Merlin had already decided to let the incident pass, when a small blur dashed from behind him and thumped into the warrior’s legs kicking at his shins like a demon.

Merlin realised it was Bryn, and saw the red haired warrior lift his hand to backhand the child away.

Merlin gasped a horrified, “No!”  But before the blow could connect, Bryn had twisted his head with the speed of a striking adder and sunk his teeth deep into the side of the warrior’s palm.  The man let out a quite undignified yelp of pain before flinging the boy off to land heavily on his back on the flagstones.

“Bryn!”  Merlin hurried the few steps to Bryn’s side and helped him to his feet.  “Are you hurt?”

Every head had turned to focus on the disruption. 

“The little bastard attacked me without warning.  Look!” The warrior held up his hand, blood was flowing freely down onto his wrist and dripping to the ground.

Arthur glared wordlessly at Merlin. 

“Bring the boy with us, Rufus, a good beating will tame the little beast,” growled Esa.

The bleeding warrior moved forward angrily to grab Bryn, but Merlin put himself between them.

“Merlin!” snapped Arthur.

Merlin’s head whipped round and he looked at him wild-eyed.  “You can’t.”

Agravaine laughed patronisingly, “It’s heartwarming that your commitment to treating everyone equally extends to vicious, feral children, Arthur, but in future it might be wise not to let them greet your guests.”

Esa’s warriors were openly laughing now, and Arthur’s knights looked tense and uncomfortable.

Arthur stalked over to Merlin and hissed too low for anyone else to hear, “he’s making me into a laughing stock.”

“He thought he was protecting me,” whispered Merlin, “Rufus barged into me.”

Arthur’s eyes glittered furiously.

“Come now, King Arthur.  Hand over the beast for proper punishment,” smiled Esa.

“He’s not a beast, he’s a boy,” snarled Merlin.    

Arthur rounded on him and there was a high flush of colour across his cheekbones, his voice was like a lash.  “You will be _quiet_.”

Merlin blanched, Arthur hadn’t spoken to him like that for a long time and it smarted.

“I will personally administer the boy’s punishment,” said Arthur coldly to Esa. 

“How do I know you’ll even bruise the boy?”

“Because I’m telling you I will.  Are you going to question my word now?”  Arthur was truly angry and even Esa’s bravado seemed to wither slightly. 

“You can’t, Arthur,” begged Merlin, pushing Bryn behind him.

Arthur firmly shoved Merlin to one side, “I told you to _hush_!” 

Surprisingly Bryn didn’t resist when Arthur grabbed his hand and hauled him away across the courtyard.  The warriors were suddenly silent and respectful as they parted to let him pass.

Esa and Agravaine turned to follow Kieran into the castle, the incident already almost forgotten, and more servants came forward to escort the visiting warriors to the accommodation that they had been allocated in the city inns.

Merlin’s stomach heaved.  It was fairly common for young apprentices to be beaten if they failed in their duties, but Gaius had never approved of the practice.  Though they had never discussed it Merlin realised now that he had just assumed that Arthur felt the same way.  After all, unlike many nobles Arthur didn’t even allow anyone to hit his dogs or treat his horses without consideration.

But Arthur had been known to throw things at Merlin.  And Arthur was truly furious and had given his word to Esa.

Merlin looked around him, feeling sick, the courtyard was empty.  Despite standing on solid ground he felt as though he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. 

Bryn was resilient and no doubt his time on the street had made him used to rough treatment, Merlin had no doubt that it wouldn’t do him any permanent harm and that most people in the town would be totally bemused as to what Merlin was upset about. 

Uther was a harsh disciplinarian; perhaps Arthur had suffered his own share of beatings as a boy.  If he had, then of course he might not view it as anything other than steering a troublesome child in the right direction.

But Merlin couldn’t stop the nausea that rolled through him, he knew that this day could change the way he felt about Arthur irrevocably.

Merlin set off at a run, determined to find Arthur and stop him.

He checked the stables, their room, the dungeons, and anywhere else he could think of, but they were nowhere to be found…finally, weary and dispirited he wandered back to his old bedroom to wait for their return.  He slumped down on his side on the old bed that had once been his but now belonged to Bryn.  Gaius was out so the rooms were empty and Merlin spent a long candlemark alone with his thoughts, watching the sunlight move slowly across the wall.

How could a punishment take as long as this?  Merlin shivered convulsively and rubbed the heels of his hands across weary eyes.

He sat up abruptly when he heard the thump of heavy footsteps and a muffled sound like a child sobbing.  Pushing off the bed, he ran the few paces to the doorway and saw Arthur in the room below, he was stripped to his trousers and a thin white shirt that was translucent with sweat.  Slung over one shoulder was the body of Bryn, and Merlin saw the boy’s bony shoulders twitching convulsively within the red shirt he wore.  Merlin’s throat tightened painfully at the muffled noises Bryn was making.

Then Arthur saw him standing at the top of the stairs and gave him a wide grin that was totally at odds with how Merlin was feeling.  Arthur swung Bryn from his shoulder and Merlin was startled to see that Bryn’s face was red and blotchy from laughter, not from tears. 

Bryn hugged Arthur’s leg and Arthur rubbed the top of his head affectionately. 

“Punished the little weasel by starting him on his knight’s training.  My father used to say you’re never too young to start.”

Merlin gaped.

“Shut your mouth, Merlin, you look like a fish.”

Bryn giggled.

“If he’s going to protect your honour, then he needs to know how to fight.”  Arthur looked down at him with a proud smile.  “He’s a feisty little thing, swung that wooden sword like a berserker and doesn’t stay whining on the ground when he gets knocked over.  Not like some manservants I could mention.”

“You promised Esa you’d bruise him,” whispered Merlin.

Arthur looked at him in surprise.  ”And so I did, the little barbarian is black and blue, show him your bruises, Bryn.”

Bryn lifted his shirt, grinning to show a number of darkening bruises across his ribs.

“I went through the same thing when I was his age, can’t learn to fight without learning how to block a blow.  Some of them inevitably get through, but nothing too bad.  Aggressive little weasel had a marvelous time.”

Bryn was staring up at Arthur with the open adoration that he normally reserved only for Merlin.

Arthur shoved him off towards the door. “Run down to the kitchens and tell them the King has sent you to have a good meal, tell them to give you a big portion of chicken, you need to start building up those muscles.”

Bryn ran off happily and Merlin numbly walked the few steps down into the workroom.

“I’m sorry I had to speak to you so harshly out there, Esa had to think I was really going to beat the boy.  We couldn’t afford to break off the truce with them about something like that.”  Arthur stopped and looked at Merlin intensely.  “But _you_ knew of course?”  Arthur paused, his voice faltering, “You _did_ know I’d never really beat him?”

Merlin’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. 

For a moment Arthur’s eyes widened, and his lips parted slightly…but then his expression went blank and it was as though a lid had been snapped shut and any emotion was locked away beneath it.

“Well, I’d better have a bath before the feast this evening.”  Arthur turned to go.

“Arthur please, I didn’t really think…”

Arthur walked to the door without looking round, “Please don’t lie to me, Merlin, I’ve had too many years of that already.”

Merlin felt wretched.

And then Arthur was gone and Merlin was left alone.  Merlin looked numbly around him, he knew this familiar room like the back of his hand, and couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt so achingly lost.  


	24. Chapter 24

Two days passed during which they spoke to each other without saying anything of note or depth.  Arthur was scrupulously polite and every considerate phrase was like a knife in Merlin’s side.  At night Arthur smiled bleakly and claimed tiredness before lying on the furthest edge of the bed facing away.  The narrow expanse of bed sheet that lay between them might just as well have been a glacier for all that Merlin could find a way to breach it and touch Arthur’s rigid back.

On the afternoon of the third day, Arthur sought him out and watched him working obsessively on the clay model.

“The crowns are ready, you need to come up and try on yours.”

“Why?”

Arthur took an irritable step forward.  “If it’s falling over your eyes then Matias will need to adjust it before the coronation.”

Merlin straightened up, finally dragging bleary eyes away from the intricate, clay townscape to look at him.  “No, I mean, ‘Why?’”

Arthur stared at him.

“What’s the point of continuing with the coronation preparations if you don’t want me as your consort anymore?”

Arthur let out a harsh puff of air and turned to leave.  “I’ve never said that to you.  Just come up and put on the damn crown.”  He slammed out of the room.

Merlin stood looking after him for a long moment, deep inside him something felt hollow, as though a winter wind was whistling through his insides.  He blinked away the beginnings of moisture in his eyes and leaned forward to concentrate on the model again.

The sun must have moved around the room, because the tiny, clay arches Merlin had constructed around the area of the communal garden were casting extenuated, mauve shadows. 

“I told you to come to our room.”  Arthur’s voice was still furious, but there was a hint of something softer and confused beneath it.

Arthur was back in the doorway, he’d changed and was wearing a night-blue tunic over black trousers.  In comparison his blond hair gleamed like a candle flame in the dusky light.

“I don’t think I want to.”

“I am _not_ in the wrong here, you seriously thought I’d beat a child. Do you know me at all?”

Merlin straightened.  “I’ve watched you stand at Uther’s side and oversee the beheadings and burnings of people of all ages; many of them had done only the most innocent sort of magic.  After you were stabbed by Mordred at the Battle of Camlann and I told you about my magic, the first thing you did was tell Gaius what I was.  You _knew_ he had been fiercely loyal to Uther all his life, and had given up his friends to the purge.  But the first thing you did was tell him about me.  _I_ knew he’d never betray me, but you couldn’t know that for sure.  All those years of loyalty…love…that I gave to you and you threw my life away.  So excuse me if I say that I don’t always guess what you’ll do.”

Arthur rubbed his forehead irritably.  “You’d lied to me for years.”

“Because you’d have stood by and watched your father execute me.”

“No.”  It was barely more than an exhaled breath of air.  Even Arthur didn’t sound truly convinced.

Merlin turned back to the clay model. 

There were a long few minutes of silence while Merlin wondered whether Arthur would turn around and leave.  But then suddenly Arthur thundered, “this is not fair.”

Merlin turned to look him steadily in the eye.  “No, it’s not.  With the Bryn thing; I should’ve known you better, I’m sorry, I should have known that you’d never beat him.  But, with the magic, you, in your turn, should have known me better, and should have known that I would _never_ harm you.  But we’re human, and we’re fallible and sometimes we get afraid and we don’t trust the people we should trust the most.  I’m sorry, Arthur.  Sorry that I didn’t know deep in my bones what I should have known.  I’m also sorry I didn’t confide in you about my magic _way_ earlier.  But I was scared, and afraid of the worst, and I made mistakes.”

Arthur swore heavily.  “I hate you.”

“What?”  Merlin blinked.

“You’re always so damned _right_.  It can be bloody annoying.”

Merlin took a step closer, raising a hesitant hand to rest on Arthur’s chest.  “Am I forgiven?”

“I suppose we can forgive each other, if you’ll just come and try the damn crown on.  Matias needs a couple of days to make any adjustments.”

Merlin snorted, “It can’t be that hard to fix, it’s just a simple band of metal.”

Arthur looked faintly shifty, “Hmmm.”


	25. Chapter 25

“You have _got_ to be joking!”

Arthur winced before saying, “it’s lovely.”

“It’s bloody spectacular,” snapped Merlin, staring balefully at the crown sitting on the tabletop, “and if I was Gwen, or Morgana, or Queen Annis then I’m sure I’d love it.  But I happen to own a pair of balls, and that seems to conflict with the whole design.” 

“It really didn’t look that…in the design Matias showed me…it looked more…”

“What?”

“Matias said it would be a contrast to my crown, and would complement your cheekbones and your…I think the phrase he used was, ‘ethereal beauty’.”

Merlin threw Arthur a hard glare, but he didn’t seem to be joking.  “Matias actually said that?”

Arthur sniffed, “I got the impression that he might have a bit of a ‘thing’ for you.”

“He’s old enough to be my grandfather.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a marriage between Winter and Spring, look at King Donal and Queen Aelwen,” Arthur said, slightly pompously.

Merlin sighed.  “I agree with you, but I just wish Matias hadn’t chosen to express his…appreciation…in metal and gems.”

“It is a little…”

“It’s more than a little…”  Merlin forced a smile.  “Anyway, what’s your crown like?”

Arthur lifted another crown from the polished, walnut box and set it on the table.  Merlin let out a small, involuntary exhale of wonder.  It was made of warm yellow gold, the colour of summer sunlight, and at first glance Merlin thought it was an intricate open design of Celtic knotwork, but then he realised that the knotwork was actually formed from the legs and wings and tails of several dragons that seemed to be chasing each other in joyous play, the dragons’ eyes and claws glittered with rubies in Pendragon red. 

“Let me,” breathed Merlin.  He moved around the table and lifted the crown to place it reverently on Arthur’s head.  It fitted perfectly, and because the design incorporated the open spaces it seemed manly and majestic without being heavy.  When he stepped back the colours of it reminded him of ripe wheat fields speckled with poppies. 

“That’s amazing.”

“The man is superbly skilled,” agreed Arthur.  He nodded at Merlin’s crown, “If you really don’t like it you can always wear one of Uther’s until we can get Matias to make another.”

Merlin shuddered.  “Thank you, but no, I’d rather wear that feathered servant’s hat than one of Uther’s crowns.”  He looked at his own crown dubiously.  “I can’t hurt Matias’ feelings like that, perhaps it won’t look so…princessy…once it’s on.”    

He picked up the crown and turned it in his hands, it was indeed a wondrous piece of craftsmanship, fine white gold threads created the tall circlet in an intricate network as complex as a spider’s web.  Set onto the web were tiny diamonds, and dangling from it, shivering like raindrops about to fall and splash, were droplets of clear quartz.  It felt as light as air when he put it on.

He expected Arthur to smirk and tease him, but instead Arthur’s mouth was hanging open.

“That bad?”

“No,” Arthur said, “it doesn’t look at all feminine when it’s on.  You just look…well, the only word I can think for it is magical.  You look as though you’re some prince from the otherworld.”

Merlin snorted.

“I’m serious, go and take a look in the mirror.”

 Merlin slunk self-consciously over to the silvered mirror that hung on the wall opposite the window. The delicate, silver web that made the crown look so feminine when it was sitting on the table seemed almost invisible against his dark hair.  Instead his head looked as though it were encircled by a glittering wreath of stars and rain.  “Oh my!” 

Arthur appeared behind him and stared over his shoulder at Merlin’s reflection.  “The man’s a genius, Merlin, it would be a crime to change this crown.”

Arthur’s hands rested on Merlin’s shoulders, but when he felt the trembling running through Merlin’s body he turned him away from the mirror to face him.  “What’s wrong?”

“It terrifies me.”

Arthur looked confused.  “The crown?”

“What it represents.  I always thought I’d help you from the background.  I’m really not sure I’m good enough to sit beside you, what if my decisions are wrong, what if the people decide I’m terrible?”

Arthur laughed with relief.  “Then they’ll finally know how I feel.”

“I’m serious, you cabbagehead.”

Arthur went to punch him lightly in the shoulder, and then stopped in mid-move, “Bugger!  It’s impossible to thump you when you’re wearing that, you just look too beautiful.”

Merlin smirked and flicked one of Arthur’s ears, “I, on the other hand, have no such problem.”

“You have to take that off in a minute and put it back in the box, and then your arse is mine.”

“Promises, promises.”

“Was your mind always this filthy, Merlin?  Because you used to seem such an innocent country boy.”

Merlin grinned, “Nope, always filthy.”

“Well, to answer your question seriously,” said Arthur, “if you’re a monarch that actually cares about their people, then that fear of failure is something that you’ll deal with your whole life.  All you can do is realise that you are in the very lucky position to be able to give your best to your country and to try to live up to that privilege.”

“You never seem afraid.”

“Hiding it is lesson number two.”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them and Arthur replaced the two crowns into their adjoining, padded compartments in the walnut box.  “Enter!”

The door opened to reveal Leon, “Sire, Lord Merlin…Hunith has arrived and is in Gaius’ quarters.”

Merlin felt panic flutter in his chest and gave Arthur a quick look of desperation.  ”Come with me?”

“Are you sure?”

“Please.” 

Arthur nodded, then turned and raised his eyebrows at Leon.  “And Leon, what did I ask you?”

Leon shuffled his feet.  “To call you ‘Arthur’?”

As they passed Leon in the doorway Merlin looked at him impishly.  “You can call _me_ ‘Lord Merlin’.”

Leon couldn’t stop a chuckle and forgot himself enough to raise his hand in a mock swat at Merlin’s head that made Merlin laugh and duck.

 

***********************************

 

When they reached Gaius’ rooms they were empty except for Hunith sitting on a chair next to the fire.  She heard them enter and rose hastily to her feet.  Merlin felt his stomach lurch unsteadily.  One part of him wanted to run forward and embrace her, the other part held any movement carefully in check, knowing that his affection wouldn’t be welcome.

Hunith ducked a deep curtsy to Arthur, “Sire.”  Then to Merlin’s dismay, she curtsied to him as well, “Lord Merlin.”

Merlin swallowed hard and the upper part of his nose felt itchy and hot with tears that he refused to give way to.  “Hunith.”

Arthur looked between the two of them, a deep furrow between his brows.  “Hunith, it’s good to see you, I’m pleased you feel able to be at our coronation.”

‘Since you weren’t able to attend our handfasting,’ continued Merlin silently in his mind, and wondered whether Arthur was thinking it too.

“I’m honoured that you asked me, Sire.”

“Well since you’re Merlin’s…”  Arthur broke off uncomfortably.

Which was the crux of the matter, thought Merlin bitterly, what _was_ she exactly; she’d made it clear she didn’t think of herself as his mother.  He was shocked by how wounded he felt, he really thought he’d come to terms with how she felt and understood it.  But some childish remnant of himself deep inside was crying with loss.  He looked at her familiar face, and longed to hug her and bury his face in the warm comfort of her neck.

He wished she hadn’t come.

“Merlin?”  Hunith closed the distance between them.   

“It’s good to see you,” smiled Merlin with brittle cheerfulness, “has Gaius found you a room already, because if not I’ll take your things to the guest room facing the courtyard?  It has the nicest view.”

Hunith raised her right hand and gently traced the side of his face with her work-rough fingertips, Merlin’s eyes half-closed and he leaned into it for a moment, then he remembered himself and flinched back to preserve the distance he knew she’d want.  “The attack by Kanen happened on this world as well of course, so you’ve already met Arthur.”

Hunith dropped her hand and turned to Arthur.  “You saved our village and we’re all in your debt.  I’m also so grateful to you for giving your love and support to Merlin when I withheld it.”

Arthur frowned at her, “I love him for purely selfish reasons I’m afraid; I just can’t imagine living without him.”

Hunith swallowed, “Could we have a little time alone?”

Merlin’s pleading gaze jerked to Arthur, “Don’t leave.”

Arthur hesitated, then moved to stand behind Merlin with his hands placed solidly on Merlin’s shoulders.  “If you don’t mind, Hunith, I’ll stay.  The last time you had a conversation, it didn’t end well.”

Hunith blinked rapidly.  “Yes, of course, I had no right to ask.  Can we sit down?”

Hunith resumed her seat on the single chair, and Arthur pulled across the bench for himself and Merlin.  Merlin leaned forward to stab at the fire with a poker and throw on a fresh log before taking his place at Arthur’s side. 

“You look well, Merlin, married life is agreeing with you.”

“You always guessed how I felt about Arthur.”

Hunith stared intently into the flickering flames.  “Merlin, I want to apologise, I pushed you away in Ealdor, and I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart.”

Merlin’s spine stiffened, his right hand had been resting loosely on his leg but now he clutched tightly at his thigh.  Arthur’s hand glided soothingly down to rest on top of it, peel the tense fingers back, and mesh them with his own.

Hunith dragged her gaze away from the fire and found his face, she looked pale and uncertain.  “I’m so sorry.  All I could see was that I’d lost my son…lost you…  It was only recently that I realised that I was being a fool and throwing away a second chance.  I understand if you’re furious with me.”

Merlin watched her, still uncertain of what she was saying, and unwilling to let himself hope.

“You died, Merlin.  And then a miracle happened and brought you back into this world, and I was so caught up in my grief that I didn’t realise how lucky I was.”  Hunith’s voice shook.  “And I pushed you away.”

Merlin reacted instinctively to her distress, and slid to his knees in front of her chair, looking up at her with shining eyes.  “Don’t be upset, everything’s fine, really.”

Hunith caressed his cheek, and this time he was hopeful enough not to flinch away.  “I’m so sorry, Merlin, I love you so much.  I so want to be your mother, will you let me?”

“Oh yes.” Merlin buried his face against the comforting warmth of her skirts and felt his tears dampen the harsh fabric under his cheek.

Arthur rose to his feet.  “I’ll let you two catch up.”  His voice sounded slightly hoarse.  As he walked to the door he dashed a hasty hand across his face before looking back.  “I’ll look forward to seeing you again, Hunith.”  He caught Merlin’s concerned look and threw him an affectionate smile of reassurance before leaving the room and closing the door softly behind him.

The fire flickered warmly in the darkening room, and the night slowly drew in around them like a sheltering blanket over their small pocket of dancing, orange light.  Merlin leaned his head gratefully against the solid comfort of his mother’s knee and he and Hunith sat up talking late into the night.


	26. Chapter 26

“You alright?”

Merlin shifted restlessly from foot to foot, but nodded.

Just in front of them the heavy double-doors were closed.  Behind those doors the Great Hall would be loud with voices, but the thick wood absorbed all noise and out here the stone walled corridor was echoing and empty. 

“Well calm down then, you’re bouncing around like a March hare.”

Merlin stilled his feet.

A long moment passed.

“And stop wringing your hands, you’re not going to an executioner’s block.”

Merlin glared at Arthur.  “Would you like me to stop thinking too?”

Arthur’s lips twitched.  “Is that even an option?”

“Prat!”  But Merlin forced his hands down to his sides and tried to hold them still. 

Arthur reached across and smoothed an errant lock of hair back behind Merlin’s ear.  Merlin smiled and tilted his head into Arthur’s hand to enjoy the fleeting touch.

Merlin glanced down at himself for the thirtieth time that morning, checking that he hadn’t spilled anything down the silver-grey velvet of his tunic.  Maud, the head seamstress, had taken her cue from the design of his crown and the colour reminded him of the winter sky, an effect that was enhanced by the tiny seed pearls scattered across the fabric like the first swirling flakes of falling snow.  A thin, silver belt shimmered like icy water around his waist.  His trousers were slightly darker than the tunic, and his knee high boots were the even deeper grey of storm clouds.

As always, the silver pendant that Arthur had given to him hung gleaming like the full moon at the centre of his chest.  He would have worn his hare brooch as well, but Maud had respectfully put her foot down and insisted that its nut-brown colour would spoil the colour scheme. 

Maud was a tall, thin woman who hadn’t risen to the post of head seamstress without having a forceful personality; her pursed lips and gimlet stare were only slightly less intimidating than Uther’s.  Since she’d obviously put her heart and soul into creating their outfits, and since he was also perhaps just a _little_ bit scared of her, Merlin gracefully bowed to her wishes and resolved to wear the brooch the day after the coronation instead.  

He suspected that Maud must follow the old religion, since she had obviously used the symbology of joining one side of the year to the other when designing the coronation clothes.  If Merlin was winter weather, then Arthur was the glory of summer.  Arthur’s tunic was a warm sky blue that almost perfectly matched the colour of his eyes.  Around the neck, cuffs and hem it glinted with sprays of tiny sapphires, citrines and rubies that sparkled like flowers in a summer meadow.  His trousers and boots were the deep indigo of a summer evening sky after a perfect day.

Arthur seemed to guess what he was thinking.  “Don’t worry, we certainly won’t be the most extravagantly dressed in there, once you see what some of the kings are wearing you’ll realise that this is actually understated.”

It was meant to be reassuring, but Merlin’s stomach churned.  The attention of the huge crowd in the Hall would be focused purely on himself and Arthur.  Merlin’s mouth felt dry, what if he forgot his vow?…Merlin started running over the words in his mind, his fingers twitching nervously.

Arthur elbowed him in the ribs.  “Are you sure you don’t want to take the title of ‘Queen’?  It’s not too late you know.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Merlin’s head jerked round to look at him.  “What?”

“King Arthur and Queen Merlin…I think it could work.”

“Are you implying, yet again, that I’m a girl?”

“Well, if the crown fits…”

Merlin glowered at Arthur, but there was no heat in it and the familiar bantering made his stomach feel much calmer.

“Seriously,” said Arthur, his voice quieter and more intense, “take the title of King alongside me; I’ll tell Geoffrey to go fuck tradition and we’ll rule side by side.”

Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand and squeezed his fingers.  “We _will_ rule side by side, but there should be only one King of Camelot.  And when we bring about a united Albion then there should be one King to lead it, and that King is you, Arthur.  Being by your side to help you achieve everything you deserve is all I’ve ever wanted.  And anyway,” Merlin grinned, “it’ll be hard enough getting used to being called Prince Merlin.”

A sharp rap on the other side of the door warned them that the ceremony was about to begin and that the doors would swing open in a few moments.  Merlin straightened his back and shoulders and stared tensely at the wood-grain, waiting for it to move.

“Oh, and Merlin…”

Arthur’s voice was stern and Merlin’s head snapped round to look at him, wondering what was wrong.

Arthur’s eyes twinkled.  “…I love you.”

Merlin had no time at all to reply as the doors were already swinging open to reveal the colourful congregation seated in the Hall.  But they were both relaxed and smiling as they began their walk down the central aisle together.

At Arthur’s specific request the back of the Hall had been kept open so that any townspeople and off-duty servants who wanted to see the ceremony would have a chance to squeeze in, and it was full to capacity with standing people in their least threadbare outfits.  Some men carried young children on their shoulders; the youngsters’ eyes wide with wonder at the spectacle.  Merlin wondered whether, in times to come, those children would tell their grandchildren about the glittering day when they saw King Arthur crowned.  If it was glorious now, he could imagine how the event would grow in the telling after sixty years or so.

In front of the standing section were rows of benches on which sat the mass of merchants and petty nobles dressed in their best silks and most colourful velvets.

Then, as Merlin and Arthur continued walking down the Hall, they passed beyond the section for the merchants and on through the section where individual chairs were arranged in rows for the attending high nobles and monarchs and druids.

The nobles and monarchs were on the left and, as Arthur had promised him, most of them were a rainbow of clashing colours and gems that made their own outfits look restrained.   The druids were seated to the right of the aisle, and they were resplendent in a quite different way that involved the quiet dignity of whites and greys and dull forest greens. 

Merlin looked straight ahead of them, to the far end of the Hall where Geoffrey stood on the raised stage in front of the carved wooden thrones of Uther and Ygraine.   

To the right of the stage were arranged chairs for the people dear to them, regardless of status, Merlin could see Gaius, Hunith, Gwen and Bryn amongst them.

To the left of the stage, sitting resplendent in their cloaks of Pendragon red and with the embroidered gold dragon gleaming above their heart, sat the knights.  Merlin had never seen a group of men radiate such joy and pride, and he felt his heart warm with gratitude for their boundless loyalty and bravery.

They’d reached the stage now, Merlin and Arthur mounted the shallow wooden steps to stand in front of the thrones then turned to face the congregation in the hall.

Merlin cast a glance across at Gaius and saw that his cheeks were wet with tears, but his smile was broad and proud and he gave Merlin a tiny nod.

Geoffrey began to recite the opening words of the ceremony and the crowd fell silent to listen.

When Geoffrey finished he gave a small twitch of his bushy, white brows to invite Arthur to speak.  Arthur took a breath.

“I, Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther and Ygraine, pledge my life, my heart and my sword to the service of the people and this land…”

Out of the corner of his eye Merlin could see the tall windows that lined one side of the hall, the sky was overcast but there was a faint flicker of sunlight glinting on one of the thick glass panes.  Perhaps just a tweak…  He sent his magic twisting joyfully up out of the hall and into the wide vastness of the winter sky, light as the wind he pushed the clouds aside.

Back in the Hall, sunlight suddenly blazed through the window nearest the stage, sending a shining column of dazzling gold to illuminate Arthur like a halo of fire as he spoke his vow.  For a moment Arthur seemed startled and his gaze flickered wonderingly to Merlin, but he never missed a beat of his speech and continued smoothly. “I solemnly promise and swear to govern all my people with respect for their individual beliefs and customs.  I also swear that Law and Justice and Mercy will hold sway over all my judgements.”

Merlin looked at the druids wondering whether they’d disapprove of his meddling with the clouds, but they were all looking at him with expressions of surprised and indulgent amusement that made him relax.

Then it was Merlin’s turn.  He raised his voice and spoke clearly so that it would carry through the hall.  “I, Merlin Emrys, son of Hunith and Balinor, pledge my life, my heart and my magic to the service of the people and this land.  I solemnly promise and swear to stand at the side of Arthur Pendragon and to show wisdom in my advice, and fairness to all, and to devote myself to my King for as long as I live.”

Merlin was grateful now for the several rehearsals that Geoffrey had insisted upon.  He and Arthur turned together and sat upon the thrones.

Geoffrey moved to a small side table bearing the walnut box.  He lifted Merlin’s crown from it first then walked to stand behind the throne, he lowered the shimmering crown of stars and rain reverently onto Merlin’s head.

“Merlin Emrys, receive this crown of Royal Majesty, a visible bond which unites you with your people and the land.  May you be wise in your decisions, and strengthened in all your works, and defend your King and your country against all enemies.”

Geoffrey next retrieved the crown of golden dragons that glimmered like sunlit wheat, he stepped behind Arthur’s throne, and in view of the assembly, lowered it onto Arthur’s blond hair. 

“Arthur Pendragon, receive this crown of Royal Majesty, a visible bond which unites you with your people and the land.  May you be strong in your decisions, and just in all your works, and defend your people and your country against all enemies.”

Geoffrey moved to stand in front of them, and raised his arms above his head.  “People of Camelot and our honoured visitors, I present to you King Arthur Pendragon and Prince Consort Merlin.”

He swept to one side with the unexpected flourish of a showman, obviously thoroughly enjoying his moment in the limelight in a way that made Merlin smile fondly. 

Arthur and Merlin rose to their feet and the rest of the Hall took that as their cue to do likewise.

There was a long moment of awed silence, as though the entire hall had realised deep within their bones that they had just borne witness to a momentous event. 

And then, like a sudden crash of thunder, the entire room erupted into a deafening, echoing roar, repeated over and over again, each time ever louder and more joyous:  “Long live King Arthur!  Long live Prince Merlin!”


	27. Chapter 27

The coronation was followed by a tiring afternoon of making polite talk with the guests.  Then they had a brief few hours of respite alone before descending back to the Great Hall in the evening for the coronation dinner.

The long tables were arranged in a broken rectangle, the gaps between the tables allowing access to the centre of the hall.  In the space in the centre of the hall, something bumpy and intriguing lay on a large table beneath a scarlet cloth, in the space around it jugglers or musicians took turns to amuse the diners during the meal.

Merlin saw the eyes of the guests fly to the covered table frequently as they ate, wondering curiously what lay beneath.  He hoped it wouldn’t be a disappointment.

Merlin’s gaze flickered often to Agravaine.  As usual he was dressed elegantly in black and sat beside King Esa grinning slyly and whispering things into his ear.  As the evening wore on and drink washed away what little diplomacy Esa possessed, he began laughing more and more raucously at every whispered aside.

The sweetmeats were being passed around at the end of the meal when King Esa abruptly spoke up, his voice bellowing above the low chatter of the other diners.  His voice was slurred from the copious amounts of wine he’d consumed and his face was a startling red in the candlelight.  “So, where’s the entertainment?  I thought we’d be seeing some magic tricks since there’s a tame sorcerer in residence.”

The conversation in the hall ceased, stunned by Esa’s bad manners.

Merlin winced at the insult to the famous Gaelic harpist sitting on a stool in the centre of the room who was currently entertaining the hall by playing a liltingly beautiful lament.  Her fingers paused on the strings and a blush rose in her cheeks.  He caught her eye and gave her a small smile of apology.

Beside him colour was also rising in Arthur’s cheeks, but Merlin knew that was due to anger not embarrassment.

Arthur’s voice was tight.  “I think the wine has made you confuse the Court Sorcerer of Camelot for a village conjuror.  Prince Merlin does not perform tricks to entertain.” He rose to his feet and looked at the harpist apologetically, “Aine, thank you very much for your delightful music, it was truly wonderful.”  Arthur gave a low bow to the harpist who nodded gratefully, rose to her feet and left with quiet dignity.

Esa blinked slowly and took another deep draught from his goblet before waving it unevenly through the air.  Some of the wine slopped out and Queen Annis pushed her chair back abruptly to avoid being splashed, Esa was oblivious.  “We’ve travelled all this way, I think at least a few tricks… c’mon Medyr, show us what you can do.”

Beside Esa, Agravaine was making a show of patting his arm and trying to pacify him, but Merlin didn’t miss the glee in Agravaine’s eyes, the man was enjoying every minute. 

Arthur angrily shoved back his chair, but Merlin rested a gentle hand on his wrist.

Merlin rose to his feet.  “I’ll be happy to entertain you King Esa, though it might be a little too tame for your tastes.”

Merlin walked across to the table in the centre of the room and was aware of all eyes on him as he carefully removed the red cloth and tucked it under the table.  The clay model of the lower city that he’d created stood exposed in all its intricate glory.  There were some gasps of appreciation, and quite a few sighs of disappointment.

Esa scoffed openly.  “I don’t think a child’s toy is entertainment.”

Lady Vivian was the first one to approach the table, clapping her hand delightedly.  “It’s so pretty, there are even little people, Daddy I want it.  Buy it for me.”

King Olaf followed her over to the table, “I don’t think Prince Merlin is planning to sell it…or are you?  I’ll pay well for it as my Vivian likes it.”

Merlin smiled, “I’m sorry, I can’t sell it, this isn’t just a decorative piece.  There’s a purpose to it.” 

Other guests wandered over curiously to join them. Once they were closer they could see the intricacies of the model and low mutters of appreciation began.  “Do you see the tiny flowers in the garden there?” “Look at the mosaic around the fountain.” “There’s a little dog by that wall…”

Even Esa joined them at the table, he laughed harshly, “What purpose could this possibly have.”

“Where are you staying while you’re in Camelot, King Bayard?” asked Merlin.

“In the White Horse tavern,” replied Bayard.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Well, with all due respect to King Arthur,”  Bayard smiled at Arthur who had walked over to stand beside him, “a tavern is a tavern wherever you go, and you don’t expect all the comforts of home.”

“But supposing you could have all the comforts of home.  I’m proposing to build this in the lower town of Camelot.  One of these houses could belong to you.  Or perhaps to you, King Olaf, the Lady Vivian could come and stay there and you would know she was perfectly safe in one of your own houses.”  Merlin looked at Vivian, “The area around the central square will contain stalls selling the newest silks imported from across the sea, the finest jewelry designers will have shops there, the best seamstresses…  But more than that, it would give you a chance to meet the eligible sons of the royalty who choose to buy the other houses, and become friends with the daughters of the other kings and queens.  You could wander round the shops and stalls in perfect safety with other women of your own age and status to talk to and compare thoughts with.  Arrange dances for the evenings…”

Vivian’s blue eyes were shining and she was virtually thrumming with excitement.  “Oh daddy, can we, it sounds perfect.”

“You say perfect safety,” said Olaf, “but what about the streets there.”

“They will be rebuilt,” said Merlin, “the only condition of purchase is that if you buy a house you contribute to building the street behind it and provide a couple of men to patrol it.”  

Queen Annis pushed her long, greying hair back over her shoulders and leaned intently over the model, “The design of the houses is certainly exquisite, did you do all this yourself.”

Merlin nodded.

“It would be an ideal place to meet and thrash out pacts or adjust trade agreements, a neutral area of Camelot for us all to gather.”  She thought for a long moment, then said decisively, ”I’m in.  But I want that house there and the street behind it.” She pointed at a roman inspired villa attached to a  large walled garden to the north of the market square.

Merlin smiled and nodded, but was careful not to let his sudden rush of exultation and relief show.  “Of course, Queen Annis.  Your banners are blue, I believe.”  Merlin stroked his hand through the air above the area she’d chosen.  In the wake of his fingers colour and movement rushed down into the clay, the curtains at the tiny windows became sky blue, the pennants hanging from the walls of the houses became the same blue and began to move gently in a breeze that the people standing around the table couldn’t feel. 

In the villa’s walled garden, the flowers burst into vibrant colours.

Merlin expanded his hand movement to include the central market square, and suddenly the tiny fountain began gushing glittering water, and the stalls and shops became a riot of coloured wares.

The tiny clay people in Annis’ street and in the market square were suddenly gaily dressed and began walking along the paths. Two guards dressed in Annis’ blue came to life and began to patrol.

You could just hear the faintest murmur of tiny high pitched voiced as the little figures talked and bartered for items.

Merlin looked up to see what effect it was having and realised with surprise that everyone in the hall was clustered around the table trying desperately to see.  Every face was childlike with wonder, eyes wide, and lips parted.  He looked at Arthur, who rolled his eyes, Merlin gave him a cheeky smile in return; he could have warned him what he was going to do, but where was the fun in that.  

“Daddy?”

“I know, Vivian, I want one too.”  King Olaf pointed at a three storied house with an imposing arched doorway.  “That one.”

Merlin nodded obligingly, “Your colours are violet, I think.”  He moved his hand and sent the magic out behind it; the house and the street attached to it sprang to life, violet pennants on the delicate spires of the roof snapping in a magical breeze and the awnings of the street stalls striped a pretty violet and white.  The door of the house swung open and a tiny figure of lady Vivian accompanied by two laughing female friends, all gorgeously dressed, made their way to the town square.

“It’s me!”  Vivian bounced and clapped her hands, “Oh, it’s wonderful.  I look so pretty.”

A tiny flock of white doves flew out of non-existence and landed on the roof of the house and began to bill and coo atop it.

After that it was too easy.  In fact the difficulty was trying to placate those who hadn’t managed to secure themselves a house. 

“When it’s completed,“ said Arthur, holding his hands up to calm them, “perhaps we will look at doing the other side of the lower town, and you might be able to purchase properties there.”

From their position standing behind Annis, Merlin saw the druids watching him with an undisguised awe that seemed out of all proportion to the frivolous magic that he’d just done. 

He was wondering whether there were any other little touches he could do to make the model prettier and was considering changing the colour of the mosaic pattern on the floor of the fountain, when he suddenly felt a sudden burst of pain shoot into his skull and yelped.

Esa had smashed his hand down onto one of the little figures grinding it back to powdered clay.  The magic snapping so violently back to him felt like releasing a taut bowstring and having it whip back on bare skin.

“I can’t believe you’re falling for this; falling over yourselves to make yourselves Arthur’s people.”

Arthur looked at Merlin first, and Merlin nodded reassuringly that he was fine, then Arthur’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Esa with open dislike.  “The area they buy will act as a little piece of their own country on Camelot soil.  By meeting together more frequently, and getting to know each other better, our lands will be able to live in harmony together.  But perhaps there are those among us who have no desire to live in peace, and hope to increase their wealth through war instead?”

“Considering you border my lands Esa, and that I have always been an ally to you,” snapped the normally placid King Rodor abruptly, surprising everyone, “your army has been growing at a surprising rate.  One might wonder what you intend to use it for.”

“That’s a Lie!” snarled Esa, “is this your plan, Arthur, setting one ally against another until all are weakened and you can swoop in to mop up the remains?”

Merlin’s eyes searched the crowd for Agravaine, expecting to see him reveling in the discord, but his sly smile was nowhere to be seen.

“King Rodor isn’t lying, your army is much larger than it was, and tomorrow I’ll show all of you some maps which prove exactly what he says,” said Arthur.

Above his thick beard Esa’s cheeks drained of colour.  “How can you know what troops I have, unless you’ve sent spies into my lands?”

“I haven’t,“ said Arthur, “but someone has, I’ve just managed to get hold of their information.”

The hall was loud with anxious queries asking whether their own lands had also been spied on, who had done it and what Arthur knew.  

Arthur held up his hand.  “At mid-day tomorrow, we’ll meet again in this hall, and I’ll tell you what I know.  But tonight, I think the evening has come to a natural end, and it might be time for us all to retire.”

The guests began to disperse and don their cloaks ready to depart, their conversation excitable and busy with speculation about what Arthur would say the following day.

Merlin pushed enough magic into the town model to let it continue in its animated form without his continued attention.  If he gave it a push of magic every few days it should be enough to keep it going on its own, and he wanted people to be able to come and view it at any time and keep their wonder and enthusiasm up for the project.

He turned to find Arthur, and saw him a few feet away, Leon whispering urgently into his ear.  Whatever Leon said made Arthur’s lips tighten and he swayed slightly, taking Leon’s arm to steady himself.  Merlin rushed to his side.  “Arthur, what is it?”

Arthur stared through him for a moment, lost in thought, then his blue eyes snapped into focus on Merlin’s face and he replied.  “My father, he’s escaped.”


	28. Chapter 28

Arthur nodded urgently towards the door, and Leon and Merlin followed him from the hall.  As soon as they reached a corridor where they wouldn’t be overheard Arthur halted sharply and turned to Leon.  “How?”

Leon looked uncomfortably at the floor for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and looked Arthur in the eye.  “The guards were drugged, someone seems to have slipped something into a flagon of water.”

“Agravaine!”  said Merlin, looking at Arthur.  “He disappeared from the Great Hall sometime during the talk about the town model.”

“It makes sense,” said Leon

Merlin cursed.  “You should have thrown him in a dungeon the moment he showed his pasty face.”

“We don’t know it’s him,” said Arthur.

Merlin looked at him.

Arthur avoided his gaze.  “We can’t leap to conclusions, he might be different in this world.”

And _this_ , thought Merlin, this stubborn, selective blindness, was why Arthur had a sorcerer as a manservant for years and never noticed.  In one way Merlin thanked the Gods for it, since otherwise their companionship would have ended very early on with his neck on a chopping block.  But on the other hand...it could be damn frustrating.  “Well, whoever helped him escape, Uther is out.  If he’s trying to get out of the castle, where will he go?”

“ _If_ he’s trying to escape the castle,” said Arthur, “perhaps he thinks he can just walk into the Great Hall and take back what was his.”

Leon frowned.  “If it comes down to a confrontation then I’m sure the knights will side with you, the men are devoted to you.”

Arthur smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, Leon, that’s reassuring.  But I’m not sure all the other royalty will feel the same, and we have their armed entourages staying in Camelot.  If enough of them throw in their lot with my father…   A civil war ripping Camelot apart would please several of them I’m sure.  And Esa and Cenred would both be pleased to step in afterwards and try to take over the pieces.  Leon, I want as few people to know my father’s escaped as possible; you, Gwaine and Lancelot take a few men you can trust to be discreet and begin to search for him.  Merlin, you come with me.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, it felt like old times, and Merlin couldn’t help feeling a rush of familiar pleasure as Arthur walked briskly away into the maze of corridors and automatically expected him to tag along.

“What are we going to do when we find him?”

“Escort him back to his rooms in the West Wing and have someone taste any refreshments before they reach the guards,” replied Arthur wryly.  “Merlin, whatever happens, if it’s avoidable, I don’t want him hurt.”

Merlin nodded, he had been accidentally responsible for Uther’s death in their own world, and he’d seen the grief Arthur had gone through, unless Arthur was in mortal danger, there was no way Merlin was going to be the one who caused Uther’s death in this universe too.  “Perhaps he’s going for the siege tunnels?”

They searched the siege tunnels and found nothing.  Later that night, when they rendezvoused with Gwaine, Leon and Lancelot in the Great Hall, it was to find that the knights had found no trace of Uther or Agravaine either.

“He had a good head start on us, he must have made it out of the castle,” said Arthur wearily, “we’ll meet again tomorrow and discuss our next move.”

As they walked slowly back to their bedroom Merlin caught a passing servant and requested a bath for Arthur. Considering all the stress Arthur was under, then at least one of the benefits of being the king was that if you wanted a bath in the middle of the night then you could damn well have one.

The bath was already half full by the time they arrived in the bedroom.  Soon after Merlin had flashed a burst of magic into the hearth to light the fire and they’d changed into their sleep shirts, a couple of servants were knocking at the door to bring in the last two bucketfuls of water.  Merlin felt guilty as he watched the servants emptying the water into the large tin bath in front of the fire, they looked dead on their feet and it must have been a long day for them too.  At least they hadn’t needed to spend time firing up the huge copper in the kitchen to re-heat the water.

Merlin moved to the bath, leaned over to dip his fingers into the barely warm water and sent his magic into it, within a few seconds the water was pleasantly hot.  When he turned to the servants to thank them they seemed barely surprised; it felt good to see how quickly magic was being accepted as commonplace and the little magics hardly even noticed.  He thanked the servants sincerely for their effort and said they wouldn't be needed again tonight. 

He shut the door behind them and turned around to find that Arthur was already sitting in the bath, his arms spread out along the rolled edges, and his head tilted back.  His eyes were closed.

The dazed expression of comfort on Arthur’s face made Merlin smile fondly.  “Hey sleepy head, don’t fall asleep and drown in there.”

One of Arthur’s eyes cracked open and he saw a glint of blue, but only for an instant and then it fell shut again.

“Well, get in here and make sure I don’t.”  Arthur’s voice was slurred with exhaustion.  Then, when Merlin didn’t immediately join him in the water, he reluctantly opened his eyes. “What are you doing?”

Merlin held up the glass bottle that usually held the scented oil.  “It’s empty, I’ll nip down to Gaius and get some more.”

“I can do without a scented bath this once, get in.”

“But afterwards, a little oil might be…handy…”

“What?”  Arthur frowned at him for a moment, then the penny dropped, “Oh!  Yes, definitely.  Send a servant down to get some.”

“I've already told them to retire for the night.”

“Well one of the guards then.”

“They aren't outside the door; it would have been Eadwin and Telor on duty tonight and you know how loyal they are, Leon must have chosen them to help him search.”

“It’s a fine thing when the King’s Consort has to fetch his own bath oil,” grumbled Arthur.

“Don’t be a dollophead,” chuckled Merlin slipping on his trousers and a pair of boots under his thigh-length sleep shirt, “my legs didn’t stop working just because you gave me a crown.  I’ll be back before you know it.”  He went over to the bath and dipped his hand under the water to caress Arthur’s thigh, relishing Arthur’s sleepy smile, then gently re-warmed the water before he left.

Gaius was snoring heavily on his pallet bed when Merlin reached his chambers.  Merlin crept through the room, found Gaius’ supply of lavender oil and refilled the bottle he carried.  His eye was caught by a jar of oil scented with sandalwood, he removed the stopper and sniffed it, the scent was warm and woody, Arthur would love it.  He decanted a small amount into another bottle to take with him.

On his way out, he paused by the bed and gently pulled the blankets back up over Gaius’ shoulders.  Gaius snuffled noisily and turned over without waking.

A creak of the stairs leading to what used to be his room made Merlin look up and he saw Bryn standing in the doorway blearily rubbing his eyes with the back of his fist.  He was wearing one of Merlin’s old nightshirts and on his small frame it reached his bony ankles.

“Hey little weasel, what are you doing?” whispered Merlin.

“You woke me.”

“I just needed something from Gaius’ supplies and didn’t want to wake him.  Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

He padded back into his old room with Bryn and put the two bottles of oil onto the bedside table so that he could lift the shivering child up and swing him into the narrow bed.  He tucked the blankets up warmly around him.  “Sleep tight, little weasel.”

Bryn mumbled something that might have been goodnight, and Merlin combed the fingers of his right hand soothingly through Bryn’s brown hair before picking up the bottle of lavender oil and heading for the door.      

He had almost reached Arthur’s room when he saw a movement at the far end of the shadowy corridor.  A man was walking away from him and he had too much of a swagger in his step to be a servant, Merlin could also see the hard line of a scabbard swinging from the man’s belt.  Instinctively suspicious, Merlin ducked into a nearby alcove.  Before he turned the corner out of sight, the man passed beneath the flickering light of a wall sconce and he could see him clearly enough to recognise him even from behind.

Agravaine.

Merlin reeled back against the wall, mind racing.  Should he follow Agravaine and hope he would lead him to Uther?  No, first he needed to warn Arthur that Uther was probably still in the castle, if he was quick they should be able to catch up with Agravaine before he got too far.

His mind was still whirling when he burst into their bedroom and closed the door hastily behind him.  He span round expecting to see Arthur still lazing in the bath and was halfway through speaking his name before he realised that they weren't alone.

Arthur was still in the bath, but his wrists were bound tightly in front of him with a thick leather cord, his eyes were wide with a mixture of anger and warning.  Behind him, like a huge, shabby black crow, knelt Aredian.

The witchfinder's left hand was gripping a fistful of Arthur’s hair, while his right was holding a dagger flat against Arthur's cheekbone, the sharp, steel tip pressing into the soft skin just below Arthur's right eye. 

Off to one side, dressed in a flowing, leather tunic the colour of ox-blood, stood Uther.

“Aredian, meet the sorcerer who enchanted my son,” said Uther. 


	29. Chapter 29

“Pleased to meet you, Prince Merlin,” said Aredian.

“Don’t call him that,” snapped Uther, “he defiles the title.”

“Merlin, run!”  Arthur gasped and tensed as the point of the dagger pressed in and a thin trickle of blood burst from his lower eyelid.

“Yes, by all means run, Merlin,” said Aredian, “but next time you meet Arthur he’ll be missing at least one of his eyes.”

“You wouldn’t,” Merlin looked at Uther, “not to your own son.”

Uther shrugged as though the matter was something he had no control over.  “Better he should lose his sight and be his own man again than spend his life as your puppet.  He’ll thank me one day.”

“For blinding me,” spat Arthur, “I think not.”

“In any case,” said Aredian smoothly, “there’s no need for any such unpleasantness providing you do as we ask.”

Perhaps he could use the dark magic he’d used on Morgana and transfer any wound to Arthur onto Aredian.  But Arthur still bore the thin, silvery scar across his neck from where his throat had been cut.  Eyes were so delicate, even if he managed to send the wound onto Aredian and Arthur’s eye looked uninjured, would the internal scarring leave him unable to see with it. 

He saw that Arthur had guessed what he was thinking, Arthur’s fingers made a tiny movement.  It had taken Merlin a long time to pick up the hand signals Arthur used while hunting, but he knew this one and it was to tell an archer who had a deer in his sights to shoot.

Merlin felt sick but kept his face impassive.  Arthur was prepared to lose his eye if he had to, and it seemed as though it was their only choice.  Merlin reached for the dark magic while keeping his face impassive.  “So, Agravaine, how does he fit into this?”

“Ygraine’s brother?”  Uther looked surprised.  “What’s he got to do with it?  I’m not a fool, I know he’s never liked me.  And why would he help me against his own nephew?  You’re the idiot I always thought you were, I’m starting to believe you succeeded through blind luck.”

Merlin suddenly straightened his back and sent the magic surging out in two directions, one to buffet Uther backwards off his feet, and the other to move any wound suffered by Arthur onto Aredian.

The next few moments were a bewildering tumult of disorientation and pain.  Merlin heard Arthur cry out but was unable to see what had happened since he was blasted back off his feet to smash against the wall.  The back of his head hit stone and his vision went dark for a moment as he slumped to the floor.  He shook his head to clear it but it was a moment before he could manage to push himself up into a sitting position, his head and back aching.

Aredian was smiling and the wound beneath Arthur’s eye was now a narrow cut and bleeding freely.  Blood dripped into the bath and fanned out into delicate patterns in the water.

“Oh dear, oh dear,” said Aredian, “after hearing what you did to Morgana I thought you might try that.”  Aredian released his grip on Arthur’s hair and pulled a silver chain from the neck of this shirt, at the end of the chain dangled a small, silver triskele.  “l’ve given one to Uther as well, and there’s another threaded onto the cord binding Arthur’s wrists.  You’ll find that it makes your magic do the opposite of what you want and rebound tenfold.”

“So you’re using magic yourself, father,” said Arthur, “you hypocrite.”

“One has to use the best weapons available for the greater good,” said Uther unfazed, “even those you despise.  I prefer to think of it as poetic justice.”

“Now,” said Aredian to Merlin, “I’m going to help your _husband,_ ” he spat the word as though it were something dirty in his mouth, “to stand, and I’d advise you to keep very still, as we wouldn’t want my dagger to slip would we?”

Merlin sat motionless, barely daring to breathe as Aredian kept the dagger close to Arthur’s eye and took Arthur’s elbow with his free hand and helped him stand.  With bound hands it was awkward, but Arthur managed to get to his feet without slipping. 

“Now, step out of the bath.”

Arthur had no choice but to do as he was told, and Merlin could see the muscles in his jaw jump as he gritted his teeth.  Aredian was a tall man, and he was able to look over Arthur’s shoulder easily as he held him hostage in front of him.  The firelight picked out the reddish tinge of Aredian’s thinning hair and his sharp, aquiline nose cast a deep shadow across his narrow lips.  He was enjoying every minute of having them at his mercy, and Merlin longed to use his fist to wipe that mocking smile from his face.

He was proud of the way Arthur stood, straight and broad-shouldered, refusing to be embarrassed by his nakedness and the noblest thing in the room.  “Let Merlin go, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“You’re going to do that anyway,” said Uther.

“Sit!”  Aredian pushed hard on Arthur’s shoulder, forcing him first to fall heavily to his knees and then grabbing another fistful of hair to make him lurch backwards into a sitting position on the floor.  He pulled a length of leather cord from his pocket and threw it across the room to land beside Merlin.  “Tie his feet.”

Merlin hesitated and the point of the dagger rested delicately against the white of Arthur’s eyeball, Arthur bit back a cry of pain but couldn’t stop himself blinking wildly.  Aredian smiled.

“No, stop!  I’m doing it.”  Hastily Merlin grabbed the cord and scrambled across the floor to Arthur’s feet.  The dagger moved away a fraction as he obeyed.  He looked at the thick cord cutting into Arthur’s wrists as he reluctantly used the similar cord to bind Arthur’s ankles together.  If he used a spell to loosen the cord around Arthur’s wrists, then surely the triskele would make it tighten it tenfold.

Perhaps if he used a spell to _tighten_ it slightly…then would the triskele loosen the binding?  Or perhaps it would interpret working against him tenfold as tightening it ten times more than he told it.  Arthur’s fingers already looked slightly blue from impaired blood flow, if the cord was tightened tenfold by magic, then it would sink through the flesh like butter and wrap itself around the bone, Merlin couldn’t risk it.

He looked up to see Arthur looking back at him; there was such love in the gaze, that it made Merlin catch his breath. 

He rose to his feet, desperately trying to think of some way to turn the situation around.  “The people will never support you if you kill Arthur.”

“I have no intention of killing Arthur,” said Uther, “despite everything he’s done he’s still my son.  I’m hoping it was done under your influence and that I can get him back again…”

“Never,” snarled Arthur, “when will you understand that I’m not enchanted, I’m doing what’s right.”

“…but, “ continued Uther smoothly, “if necessary I’ll be forced to imprison him for the rest of his life.  After all, he was prepared to do that to me.”

“The knights would never stand for it,” said Merlin.

“They won’t know, I’ve a place to imprison him that no-one knows about.  It will seem as though he has just run away from his responsibilities.  He did it once before, they’ll easily believe he did it again.”  Uther searched his pockets and found a small, leather bottle, he threw it across for Merlin to catch.  “Drink that.”

“Don’t!”  Arthur struggled against his bonds but only succeeded in making them cut more deeply into his flesh.

Of course, Uther didn’t know that Arthur hadn’t run off, thought Merlin, he’d been murdered by Morgana and dumped into a well.  But then, no-one but Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine and Gwen knew about that, everyone else thought that he had disappeared.  It would be believable enough that he might do the same thing again.

“Poison?” asked Merlin, turning the flask over in his fingers.

“Nothing so dramatic,” said Aredian, “just the same sleeping draft that I slipped to Uther’s guards, more concentrated of course, since it’s not watered down.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“We always have a choice,” replied Aredian, “you can drink it now, or you can drink it after watching me cut out one of Arthur’s eyes, completely your decision.”

Merlin unstoppered the flask and raised it to his lips.

“Merlin, don’t!”

Merlin looked at Arthur apologetically, he’d failed them both.  He took a mouthful of the sleeping draft, it was bitter and made him shudder.

“All of it please.”

Merlin glared at Aredian but swigged down the remainder.  Almost immediately he felt woozy and room seemed to tilt. 

“Now remove your clothes and get into the bath.”

Merlin’s brain felt as though it was full of wool and he blinked at Uther in confusion.

“Clothes off.”

What else could he do, Merlin fumbled with his boots, having to lean one shoulder heavily against the wall before he could manage to slide them off.  After that removing his trousers was fairly easy.  He struggled with getting out of the sleep shirt as his arms didn’t seem to want to do what he told them to, but finally he pulled it off over his head and dropped it on the floor.  He stood there shivering.

“Now into the bath.”

The room seemed to be spinning around him very slowly.  He wove unsteadily towards the bath and managed to step over the side, but almost fell over when it came to sitting down. He cracked his elbow painfully on the metal edge, and that briefly woke him up a little, but then he felt the wool filtering into his mind again, making everything seem far away, he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“Don’t you dare touch him, if you hurt him I swear I’ll kill you with my bare hands…”  It was Arthur’s voice, but it seemed to come from far away.  It was filled with such panic that Merlin wanted to reassure him, but the words came out as a slurred mumble.

Large hands reached from behind him to rest on either of his shoulders, and for a moment his mind drifted and he smiled, thinking it was Arthur coming to massage his back.  He realised his eyes had slid shut and blinked them open, the warm room blurred and danced in front of him. 

“If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll kill you.” And it couldn’t be Arthur’s hands on his shoulders, because that was Arthur’s voice coming from some distance away.  Merlin frowned in confusion.  Arthur’s voice changed, holding a broken desperation that Merlin had never heard in it before.  “Please, I’m begging you, if you ever loved me, father, please…”

Merlin needed to get to Arthur, he struggled to push himself up, but his hands flailed weakly against the sides of the bath.

“Now, now, none of that.”  It was Uther’s voice, just by his ear.  “Perhaps Arthur disappeared because you slipped in the bath and drowned, or perhaps you drowned yourself because Arthur was deserting you again.  I’ll leave people to make their own minds up.  But either way, Gaius is too good a physician to believe you drowned unless there’s water in your lungs.  Good bye, Merlin, you'll never know how satisfying this is.”

And then the hands were pushing down, and his body was gliding under the water with no resistance.  Arthur was shouting something, but water was rushing into Merlin’s ears and the sounds became distorted, garbled but oddly loud.  The back of his head smacked against the bottom of the bath and he felt the water trying to rush up his nose.  He panicked then, his eyes wide and his lips pressed tightly shut.  He grappled with the hands on his shoulders but they were like stone weights, he kicked wildly with his feet, aware of the water sloshing out of the bath and onto the floor.

His magic flew out instinctively to try to push the hands away, and instantly the triskele twisted the magic, making Uther’s hands clamp down ten times heavier and more immovable.  He thrashed his head from side to side, his chest burning.  He clamped one hand over his mouth, trying to hold it shut, but finally he couldn’t keep his lips closed any longer and he breathed in, not wanting to, but unable to stop the reflexes of his body.  Water poured down his throat.  He’d thought it would be cold, but it felt like liquid metal, and it seemed to burn as it rushed down to fill his lungs.

He saw his last breath bubble up through the water, glittering like silver.  Then the edges of his vision began to darken, and he stopped struggling.  His last sensation was of his body relaxing, and his arms floating up to hang loosely beneath the surface of the water.


	30. Chapter 30

The first thing he became aware of was that his chest was a blaze of pain and his throat burned. The next was that fingers were pinching his nostrils shut and that there was a mouth clamped over his. Someone was kissing him...a strange kiss, more like blowing into his mouth than anything. He blinked his eyes open and saw Agravaine’s face so close to his that he could barely focus on it. What sort of perverted…

Merlin struggled feebly and Agravaine immediately released him.

“Don’t touch me!”

Agravaine’s dark brows shot up. “A fine way to thank me for saving your life.”

Merlin was prevented from answering by a racking cough that turned into a convulsive vomiting fit; Agravaine helped him to sit up so that he could spew it away from him across the floor in a stinking, watery mess.

Merlin sat hunched forward across his knees, gasping and shivering. For a moment he was disorientated and wondered what had happened, but then he saw the bath and the lake of water around it and shuddered, as soon as he could catch his breath he needed to go and find Arthur. He still felt a little woozy and wasn’t sure if it was the aftermath of almost dying or the remains of the sleeping potion in his system, hopefully he’d just vomited up most of it.

He noticed Bryn standing off to his left, his face red and puffy from crying. “Bryn, what are you doing here?” Merlin put out his arm and Bryn flew over like a released arrow to plaster himself against Merlin’s side, his desperate hug made it even more painful to breathe. He rubbed a feeble hand through Bryn’s tousled hair.

“Gaius is on his way, we ran ahead,” said Agravaine.

“I can’t wait for him, I need to go.” Merlin gently moved to extricate himself from Bryn, but as he did so the room seemed to tilt and sway, and Bryn’s tight hug was the only thing stopping him from keeling over onto his back.

“If you try and move now you won’t be going anywhere except face down on the floor. You boy! Run and tell Gaius that Merlin is alive.”

Bryn reluctantly drew back and looked questioningly at Merlin. Merlin nodded and forced a reassuring smile. Bryn pushed himself to his feet and dashed off out of the door.

“That boy adores you,“ said Agravaine, “I hope my son looks at me like that when he gets a bit older.”

“You have a son?” said Merlin blinking.

“Three months old now.” Agravaine tilted his head to one side like a curious crow. “What happened, did you slip in the bath? You’re a very lucky man, if the boy hadn’t brought help so quickly, you wouldn’t be talking to me now. Here, let me help you onto the bed and get some blankets round you.”

Agravaine slipped an arm around Merlin’s shoulders and helped him stagger the few steps across to the bed and sit down. Merlin was surprised by the gentleness with which Agravaine pulled the red coverlet across the bed and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Merlin couldn’t help shrinking away from his touch. “Why were you kissing me?”

Agravaine recoiled. “What? No, I wasn’t.”

Merlin wasn’t sure whether the expression of appalled revulsion on Agravaine’s face was reassuring or insulting and had to stop himself laughing. The suppressed chuckle turned into a racking cough and water surged up like a fountain from his stomach and erupted onto the floor. Agravaine danced backwards to avoid being splashed.

His throat felt like sand and the inside of his nose was burning from where the excess vomit had forced itself through it. Merlin leaned forward, panting for breath, his head pounding, and grabbed the edge of the coverlet to wipe his face. “So what was that?”

“Dorcas brought a maidservant back with her from Persia when she married me. Aelfred wasn’t breathing when he was born,” a convulsive shudder ran though Agravaine and he wiped his hand quickly across his eyes, “and Fatima did this thing, she blew into his mouth, I couldn’t believe it, but after a while Aelfred started to cry, it was the most wonderful sound I’d ever heard…I thought it was worth trying with you.”

Merlin wasn’t sure what took him aback most, that Agravaine saved his life, or that he had a wife and son… In their old universe, if he’d had a wife and son he loved, would he ever have fallen in love with Morgana? Perhaps he’d never even met Morgana in this universe.

He’d thought it was impossible for a person to be too different from world to world, but perhaps as much of someone’s personality was formed by what experiences they went through as from what traits they were born with.

The door swung open and Gaius bustled into the room and across to the bed. “Merlin, thank the Gods! When Bryn ran in and told us you were drowned…”

Gaius’ put his hand on Merlin’s forehead to check his temperature, so Merlin could only move his eyes to look at Bryn. “But how did you know?”

“You left one of your bottles, so I was bringing it…”

Now that Merlin looked he noticed the bottle of sandalwood oil lying smashed just inside the doorway, if he hadn’t just been through a near drowning, he probably would have been able to smell it too.

“…they took Arthur, they didn’t see me, you were lying under the water. I thought you were dead, you were too heavy.” Bryn’s voice became faster and faster and more and more choked and hard to understand. “I pulled your head out of the water, I had to pull your hair to lift it up, I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t breathe, I shouted at you but you wouldn’t open your eyes, and I had to let it go, and it went underneath again, and I ran for Gaius, but I had to leave you under the water, and it took so long…”

“You did well, Bryn, thank you, you saved my life.” Merlin patted the bed beside him and Bryn gratefully ran over and snuggled up against him again.

“Took Arthur? Who took Arthur? You didn’t say that!” snapped Agravaine.

“Uther and Aredian.”

“The Witchfinder?” said Gaius in horror, “I haven’t seen Aredian since the purge, the man is evil incarnate.” Gaius’ eyes were moist, “You’re very lucky, my boy, I don’t know how long you were under the water but I wouldn’t expect you to be breathing again.”

“You should ask Agravaine about that, he did some sort of blowing into my mouth that saved me.”

“Really?” Gaius was intrigued.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Agravaine paused and stared at Merlin intensely, “though, when I pulled you out of the water I would swear your heart had stopped. The breathing trick doesn’t make the heart beat again, I didn’t think it would work…I’m sure you were dead.”

“You must be mistaken,” said Gaius brusquely, “people don’t come back from the dead, not even Court Sorcerers.” But Gaius was looking at Merlin strangely, as though there was more he wanted to say but didn’t want to say it with Agravaine present.

Anything Gaius had to say would have to wait anyway, Merlin had one priority. “I have to find Arthur.”

“You can’t go alone, I’ll call the knights,” said Agravaine.

Merlin still wasn’t sure whether Agravaine could be trusted, “Why did you leave the feast early?’

Agravaine blinked, “I had indigestion, it came back again in the night, it’s why I went to wake Gaius for a potion.”

“I was giving him a peppermint infusion when Bryn ran in,” confirmed Gaius.

Merlin made his decision, “You need to find Lancelot, Leon, Gwaine and Gwen.”

“The serving girl?”

Merlin pushed himself to his feet, went to the wardrobe and began hastily pulling on some clothes. “I’d trust her in a crisis as much as any knight. Tell them, and them alone, what’s happened. If they find Uther and Aredian their first priority is to remove a small silver necklace they’re wearing.” When Agravaine looked at him as though he was mad, Merlin explained, “it won’t hurt them, but it stops me. I think I know where they took Arthur, I’m going to find him.”

Merlin went to the weapons rack in the corner of the room and took a moment to choose Arthur’s favourite sword. He paused in the doorway to shoot a reassuring smile at Bryn and Gaius and then he was running unsteadily off down the corridor, hoping that his guess about where Uther would imprison Arthur was correct.


	31. Chapter 31

Uther had said that he had somewhere to imprison Arthur that no-one else was aware of; Merlin could think of only one place in the castle where someone could be locked away in total secrecy for decades.  He prayed he was right.

It took him far longer than he wanted to make his way there as he had to duck into alcoves or side-corridors and wait in breathless stillness to avoid being seen by knights patrolling the castle or servants about on late-night duties.  He hoped all these people would be loyal to himself and Arthur, but dealing with either questions or opposition now would just slow him down, and until he had Arthur safely by his side again he wanted to keep everything as close to his chest as possible.

His caution paid off when he reached the lower reaches of the castle and the sound of many pairs of approaching feet made him dodge into the nearest open storeroom.  For a moment he thought it must be a troop of knights on their way to a patrol, although why they would take this route was a puzzle, but there was something about the stealthy quietness of the footfalls that made him suspicious.  He left the storeroom door very slightly ajar and put his eye to the crack so that he could watch them pass by.  What he saw made his mouth drop open, as the knights creeping past wore ochre gambesons under their chainmail.

There were at least a dozen of them, their helmets and drawn swords glinting in the light from the wall sconces.  His abused lungs picked that moment to protest and Merlin had the almost overwhelming urge to cough.  He jammed his wrist against his mouth and bit down on his sleeve, sucking the fabric into his mouth to muffle any noise and willing himself to be quiet.

It seemed to take ages for them to disappear around the bend in the corridor, and as soon as he was sure they were out of earshot Merlin gratefully spat out the material, doubling over with harsh coughing that made his throat ache.  When it had subsided he let himself back out into the corridor.  Uther had obviously passed on the location of the entrance to the siege tunnels, and now someone was sending their knights through to reclaim the castle on Uther’s behalf.

What king had dark yellow livery?  Merlin racked his brains but couldn’t think of who it might be.  It wasn’t Esa and it wasn’t Cenred either. 

Arthur would know.  Merlin set off again along the passageway and took the first staircase that led downwards. 

He finally reached his destination and was unhooking a torch from the wall when he heard Kilgharrah’s voice echoing faintly from the depths of the dark stairwell. 

“As annoying as your voice is, your silence is somehow even more so.”

He was talking to someone down there, and Merlin couldn’t help the joyous grin that broke across his face.  He began to hurry down the stairs.

“How many years is this going to continue?  Your misery is making me quite irritable.”

“Merlin’s dead.”  It was the merest whisper echoing up the stairwell but it held such abject despair that it made Merlin’s stomach clench, he never wanted to hear that sound in Arthur’s voice.

“At last, it speaks!” snapped Kilgharrah sarcastically.

Merlin had reached the bottom of the stairs now and could see the huge dragon sitting on the rocky outcrop in the centre of the dark cave.  “Leave him alone, Kilgharrah.”

Uther had given Arthur clothes before chaining him up; Arthur had been sitting at the far end of the rocky ledge with his arms crossed across his knees and his face buried in the red fabric of his sleeves, otherwise he would have seen the glow of Merlin’s approaching torch.  At the sound of Merlin’s voice his head rose and he stared at Merlin with an expression of bewilderment, before pushing to his feet with a cry of joy.  For a moment everything else was forgotten as Arthur tried to reach him, but the chains attached to the manacles on his wrists and ankles jangled noisily and jerked him backwards before he could take more than three steps.

Merlin crossed the distance between them in an instant and found himself immediately pulled into an embrace, the thick chains dangling from Arthur’s wrists banged heavily against Merlin’s spine.  He still held the torch in one hand and Arthur’s sword in the other, so, as much as he desperately wanted to reciprocate, all he could do was stand there awkwardly and allow himself to be hugged so fiercely that his ribs hurt.

“Merlin, Merlin…” Arthur was breathing his name like a prayer.  After a moment he grabbed Merlin’s upper arms and pushed him back a fraction to stare wonderingly into his eyes, his hands glided up over Merlin’s biceps and onto the skin of his neck, still slightly clammy from the bath water, and then cradled the sides of Merlin’s face with infinite gentleness.  “I thought you were dead.”  Arthur tugged Merlin back into a bear hug before finally reluctantly releasing him.  “I _saw_ you die.  _He_ said you were dead.”

“Uther?”

Arthur jerked his head angrily at Kilgharrah.  “No, _him,_ he lied to me.”

Kilgharrah looked at Merlin and raised the leathery skin above one eye in a way that reminded Merlin of Gaius.  Merlin turned to slide the torch he was holding into an empty iron holder on the wall, he didn’t want to alarm Arthur, but he owed the dragon the truth.  “Well, strictly speaking I don’t think he was lying.”

He turned back to Arthur to see that the colour had drained from his face.  Hastily he went back to him and cupped the warmth of his hand against Arthur’s cheekbone, letting him feel the reality of the life pulsing in his fingers.  “Agravaine thinks I was dead when he pulled me from the bath.”

“Agravaine?”

“I have to admit I was wrong about him, he saved my life.”

“I felt your death,” said Kilgharrah, “I am…surprised...to see you.”

“Pleasantly surprised?” grinned Merlin.

The dragon inclined his head.  “I have gotten used to you, I would miss your visits and even your relentless, inane prattle.”

“At last the dragon and I have something in common,” murmured Arthur, and Kilgharrah snorted something that might have been a laugh.

“It’s as well you’re alive,” said Kilgharrah, “your king has a tendency to melancholy and giving up when afflicted by grief, your absurd stubbornness and misplaced optimism will help to compensate for that in the coming years.”

“Is it just me,” said Merlin, “or do even his compliments sound like insults?”

“So if you died, how are you still here,” said Arthur, touching his cheek wonderingly, “was it your magic?’

“Magic can’t bring people back from the dead…or at least it shouldn’t be used for that.”  Merlin looked at Kilgharrah. 

“You are destined to stand at the side of the once and future king, perhaps it is a part of your destiny.”

“Not to die?” exclaimed Merlin in horror.

“What’s so terrible about that,” said Arthur, “perhaps you could live forever, who wouldn’t want that?”

“And watch everyone you love die around you?”  Merlin shuddered.  “Watch _you_ die before I do.  I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t die,” said Kilgharrah.  “In fact you did die, and it can certainly be permanent.  Perhaps it is similar to the Upir...”

“The what?”

Arthur rattled the chain on his wrist.  “I don’t want to interrupt the whole destiny talk, but we won’t have much of a destiny unless you unlock these.  Did you bring a key?”

“There is no key,” said Kilgharrah, “they are the same type of magical chains that have been used on me.  There is no escape.”

“Except there is,” contradicted Arthur, “Merlin freed you before.”

“A magical blade can sever the chains,” nodded Merlin, “and I’ve Arthur’s sword.”

Arthur regarded the weapon dubiously.  ”That sword wasn’t magical the last time I looked.”

“And it still isn’t,” said Merlin, “but if it’s burnished in a dragon’s breath it will be.”  He turned to Kilgharrah and raised the sword for him to see.  “Will you make Excalibur for us on this world?”

Kilgharrah’s claws scratched deep grooves into the rock as he flexed them and his golden eyes narrowed.  “Why should I do that?”

“Because in return we’ll free you,” said Arthur decisively.

Merlin shook his head and lowered his voice.  “Is that wise?  The last time he attacked Camelot.”

The dragon’s eyes glinted.

“Are you able to order him not to?” asked Arthur.

Merlin’s brows knotted and he looked inside himself, searching for the familiar dragonspeak, but the words which used to come to his lips as swiftly and easily as breathing weren’t there.  He was failing Arthur again and he felt guilty that he was so ridiculously overjoyed about it.  “I can’t, Balinor must still be alive, the dragonlord power hasn’t been passed to me yet.”

Arthur's expression softened and he squeezed Merlin's shoulder. "I'm glad for you, my love."  Then his practical mind returned to their current predicament and he frowned slightly.  “Well, no matter.  I’ve only had to spend a little while here, but I know no creature should be locked away down here.  I can’t even imagine being imprisoned here for years.  If he turns on us then so be it, I can’t say I’d blame him after what my father’s done to him.”

“He might try and kill Uther.”

Arthur’s jaw tightened, “I’ve been making excuses for my father for years, loving him despite everything he’s done.  After watching him murder you…I can’t find it in myself to care whether he lives or dies anymore.  If the dragon kills him, then it’s an end he’s brought upon himself.”

“I don’t want to be the cause...”

Arthur put a hand under Merlin’s chin and tilted up his face to meet his gaze.  “My father is the cause, not you.  He chose the path he walked, and it was one littered with innocent deaths, yours was just the most recent.”

The talk of death made Merlin start.  “I haven’t told you, there are foreign knights in the castle, they’re dressed in…”

“Yellow?”

“How did you know?”

“They’re Lord Godwyn’s men.”

“Elena’s father?”

Arthur nodded.  “My father said Godwyn was the one he’d been sending the cryptic notes to, they’ve been close friends since boyhood.  On this world Godwyn found out Elena was enchanted by the Sidhe and called in the Witchfinder to free her.  So he was more than ready to believe Uther when he said I’d been enchanted by you and knew exactly who to turn to for charms against magic.”

“But the cryptic note said he’d cede lands in return for the king helping him.”

“We misunderstood it,” said Arthur, “not _cede_ lands, but _join_ lands, Uther’s planning on marrying Elena.”      

“But she’s young enough to be his daughter, he was going to try to marry her off to _you_.”

“So she’s young enough to bear more heirs for Uther,” said Arthur bitterly.  “He’d need at least one more to replace me.”  Arthur turned to face Kilgharrah.  “Will you help us?”

Kilgharrah regarded the two of them silently for a long moment.  “I will, and in return I offer you my promise, freely given, that I will not needlessly harm Camelot’s inhabitants unless they attack me.  The only exception to this is King Uther, I will give you no promises about his wellbeing if I am lucky enough to find him.”

“Agreed,” said Arthur shortly, taking the sword from Merlin’s hand.  “How do we do this?”

“Stand in front of me, and hold the sword aloft,” replied Kilgharrah, “since you are holding the blade yourself, my magic will be more potent than if someone else creates the blade on your behalf.  The spirit of the blade will join with yours, no one except you will be able to use the sword.”

Arthur nodded and held the blade up in front of him as high as the chains on his wrist would allow.  Merlin automatically stepped back a few paces to allow him room.

Kilgharrah stretched his neck up to its full height then, looking both regal and terrifiying, but Arthur didn’t flinch as the dragon opened its mouth and golden fire belched out to engulf him.  Merlin had to shrink back at the intense heat and for a moment watched in terror, sure that Arthur must have been incinerated where he stood.  But as his eyes adjusted he could see Arthur standing unharmed in the very centre of the fiery breath, the sword raised like a burning brand in one hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, and his blonde hair flying about his face so that it was hard to see where hair finished and golden flames began.  He looked both glorious and terrifying, as awe-inspiring as some avenging spirit of the Gods.

The fire died away, and Arthur stood there blinking, like someone awaking from a dream.  He reverently lowered the sword, turning it to look at the runes that now gleamed on its blade, and hefting it in his hand to feel the new perfection of its balance.

Suddenly he turned, swinging Excalibur to slice down at the manacle on his ankle.  Merlin yelped involuntarily, thinking the blade must surely strike through metal and bone alike.  But the sword cut through the metal like butter and stopped precisely before touching skin.

Arthur’s eyes glittered with pleasure, and he made short work of the other three manacles until he stood free.

Kilgharrah looked at him skeptically.  “Your promise.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”  Arthur moved to where the dragon’s huge chain was fastened to the wall.  The muscles bunched under his tunic and he took a mighty swipe at the chain; the link shattered with a blaze of blue light and a mighty clash like thunder.  Kilgharrah keened a high note of pleasure and tossed his head and moved his feet, tugging himself free of the chain.

“At last!”

Merlin expected him to spread his wings and turn and fly from the cavern immediately, but instead Kilgharrah put his head on one side and regarded them.

“I’ve freed you,” said Arthur, “what more do you want?”

Kilgharrah sniffed, “I think I’m growing soft in my old age, but it occurs to me that with enemy knights already in the depths of the castle it might be helpful for you to rally your own knights to your cause from the courtyard.”

“And how do you propose we get there without going through the enemy knights?” said Arthur.

Kilgharrah looked thoroughly disgusted with himself.  “I can carry you there, if you get on my back.”

“Ride you?!”  Arthur sounded as appalled as Kilgharrah looked.

“You’d let us do that?” said Merlin, overwhelmed, “thank you, Kilgharrah, we’re honoured, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Are you talking about flying?” said Arthur with a definite squeak to his voice, “I’d rather face all of Godwyn’s knights.”

Merlin laughed as he hurried to the edge of the ledge, already anticipating the joy of being in the air.  When Kilgharrah lowered his head down to Merlin’s feet, Merlin clambered up onto the dragon’s neck and scrambled down it to sit on Kilgharrah’s shoulders.  “You can hold onto the long spiky scales here, you won’t fall off.”

Arthur’s eyes widened, “You’ve done this before?”

“Nothing to it.”

Merlin knew Arthur’s pride would make him rise to the challenge and sure enough Arthur was soon gingerly making his way down Kilgharrah’s neck to sit behind Merlin.  Arthur’s arms reached around Merlin’s waist and gripped on tightly.

“Don’t you want to hold on to Kilgharrah’s scales?”

“I trust you more than I trust him,” gritted Arthur, “and at least this way if we fall we’ll fall together.  And if you are immortal then perhaps I can twist us so that I land on top of you.”

Merlin shivered.  “Don’t even joke about it.”

Arthur rested his chin on Merlin’s shoulder, and his breath was soft and warm against Merlin’s ear.  “Don’t worry about it until we’re sure,” Arthur chuckled, “and anyway, you might get your head cut off in the upcoming battle and that’ll set your mind at rest.”

Merlin frowned.  “You have a warped sense of humour, and you’re not at all as funny as you think you are.”

Then Kilgharrah’s wings began to beat, and with a huge shudder and a lurch they were airborne and surging upwards towards the exit in the cavern’s roof.


	32. Chapter 32

The cave was far bigger than Merlin had ever imagined, Kilgharrah flapped upwards, taking them away from the pathetic light of the torch far below and into a darkness so deep it seemed to press against their eyes like velvet. When they were just under the cavern roof Merlin sensed the ceiling above them more than saw it; the displaced air from Kilgharrah‘s wingbeats hit the rocky ceiling, had nowhere to go, and swirled cold against his face as it eddied back past them.

Kilgharrah’s body tilted beneath their knees and Merlin felt Arthur tense behind him and his grip on Merlin’s waist tighten. Merlin clung desperately to the long scales on Kilgharrah’s shoulders, certain that Kilgharrah had become disorientated in the darkness and was going to crash into the rock above them. But at the last moment the huge dragon turned and slipped effortlessly through a massive fissure in the rock roof.

Merlin summoned a ball of flame and in the flickering, blue light he and Arthur watched the narrow, granite walls streaming past them at frightening speed.

Kilgharrah was barely fitting through the huge, natural opening in the rock and had narrowed his wings close to his body and drawn his feet in tight against his belly; it was now only his initial momentum that was keeping him gliding up through the crevice.

Arthur abruptly lurched forward, his body pressing Merlin’s tightly down beneath him so that the side of Merlin face’s slapped down hard against the cool, green scales. The force of being pushed down forced the breath out of his chest and when Merlin inhaled again all he could smell was the heady scent of Kilgharah's scaly skin, sweet and smoky, reminding him of Gaius' small and precious supply of myrrh resin.

Merlin automatically wriggled to move Arthur off him, but then his startled eyes saw how the low-hanging rock above them would have knocked his head cleanly off his shoulders if Arthur hadn’t acted so quickly. He lost control of his ball of light and it crashed into the wall and span off behind them in a welter of sparks before going out and leaving them in darkness.

Kilgharrah’s momentum was slowing, but they were still not through the crevice. If Kilgharrah came to a stop in here then they would all be trapped like a cork in a bottle. The tunnel was far too shallow for the dragon to be able to put down his feet and walk. As for Merlin and Arthur, if they weren't smashed to death against the walls when he ground to a halt, then there was no going back to the sheer drop the way they had come, and if the exit turned out to be half way up the side of a sheer cliff then they’d be trapped in here with him.

From where he was pressed down on top of him, Arthur’s breath had been hitting Merlin’s neck in tense puffs of warm air, but now it ceased completely as he joined Merlin in holding his breath, knowing that the next few seconds would decide whether they surged out into the open air, or crashed and died on the dragon’s back and this stone crevice turned into their tomb.

The moment seemed to extend until Merlin’s nerves were jangling, and then suddenly there were stars glittering above them and Kilgharrah’s leathery wings were snapping open fully in the open air, cracking noisily like the sails of a huge ship tacking into the wind.

A shuddering vibration ran up through their bodies as Kilgharrah let out a great quivering exhale; the dragon must have been as anxious about escaping the crevice alive as they had been. Merlin wondered whether that was part of the reason Kilgharrah had been so generous in offering them a ride to the courtyard, perhaps it had wanted the reassurance of their presence, maybe even dragons could be afraid to face possible death alone.

“You‘ve ridden him before?” Arthur sounded even more in awe of Merlin than he had when first learning of his magic. Merlin stared straight ahead and nodded silently, reluctant to lose that admiration and admit that he’d never had a ride quite like that, nor been as totally terrified.

The moon was close to full, like a bright, silver coin that had been worn away on one edge; if he hadn’t been far too tense to even think about unclenching his death-grip on the dragon’s back, then he could imagine he might almost reach up and brush it with his fingertips.

The cavern exit had brought them out high above the rocky slopes north of the castle and as Kilgharrah banked sideways to take them around the castle, the moonlight illumined The Hill in shades of glimmering silver-grey and deepest blue far below them.

Merlin could not see it now without thinking of it as “The Hill”, not Camlann Hill as it was named, nor the hill where Muirden’s childhood home had once stood, no it was “The Hill” where, in a hidden, sunken well, the body of this world’s Arthur lay tumbled in death beneath his own.

He felt Arthur’s arms tightening around his waist and knew he’d picked up on what he was thinking.

Arthur had to shout close into his ear in order to be heard above the rushing of the wind. “You died there, so you can’t be immortal.”

Then The Hill fell away behind them and was forgotten as they circled Camelot; the lazy flaps of Kilgharrah’s gigantic wings taking them so close to the turrets that Merlin could see the icicles hanging from the edges of the blue, slate roofs and glittering like swords in the moonlight.

As they rounded the castle the courtyard came into view and, in it, numerous moving golden pinpoints of light that spoke of many torches. As they swooped down out of the night sky it became apparent that there was a battle ongoing between the Knights of Camelot and the invading hordes of Godwyn’s men.

Kilgharrah flew lower and now they could see clearly what was happening, but the attention of the men on the ground was so intent on the conflict that no-one was looking upwards into the night sky and they might as well have been invisible.

Godwyn’s forces were formed into a loose wedge on the stairs out of the castle and into the centre of the courtyard. The Pendragon knights were already out in the courtyard, their red cloaks encircling the invading forces like a spill of blood, Lancelot was leading the forces on the left and Gwaine those on the right. Leon was at the head of the knights directly in front of Godwyn’s men and preventing them from crossing the courtyard to take possession of the main castle gates.

They descended swiftly, the clash of swords becoming louder.  Leon’s voice rang out like a clarion through the crisp air. “For King Arthur!”

And then they heard Uther’s answering bellow from the stone balcony above the courtyard. “Arthur is gone, I am still your King and you will stop this revolt or you will die.”

“For King Arthur and Prince Merlin!” Several of Godwyn’s knights had fought their way close enough that Gwaine was in danger of being overwhelmed, but still he was raising his voice to rally his troops.

Merlin swallowed against the lump of fear in his throat, they needed to get down there now. “Kilgharrah?”  
Kilgharrah gracefully inclined his head.

“Kilgharrah!” Arthur also said his name, but it sounded more like a battle oath or a promise than a name.

Kilgharrah’s fierce, contented laughter rumbled up beneath them, and Merlin turned his head to see a grin on Arthur’s face.

“My King!” responded Kilgharrah with a quiet jubilation. “Pendragon.”

Something had happened between the two of them, some bond or acknowledgement that Merlin struggled to understand.

The men on the ground were beginning to notice their descent now. At first it was just a few horrified faces looking up into the night sky, but then the upturned faces spread like ripples moving out across a pool.  Knights on both sides forgot their fight for an instant as the huge dragon swooped down into the centre of them with the two men on its back and landed with a great crash and skitter of scales and claws on hard stone in the middle of the courtyard.


	33. Chapter 33

The scene from the ground was a confusion of clashing swords and shouting; the guttering torchlight sending the fighting mens’ shadows looming and dancing over the tumult so that it looked like some image from the underworld.  Merlin was glad he’d seen it from the air or he’d have had no idea how the different forces were orientated, as it was he knew they’d landed just behind the spread of knights led by Leon who were battling the phalanx of Godwyn’s men spewing down the steps of the castle.

To their right were more mustard yellow cloaks than red, and somewhere in the midst of that melee must be Gwaine. 

As Arthur slid past Merlin and dropped lightly into the courtyard he patted Kilgharrah’s shoulder, Excalibur was already unsheathed in one hand and he used it to gesture at the troops attacking Gwaine’s knights.  “Take out your anger on Godwyn’s men.” 

The dragon gave a snort of approval, his heavy head swinging to the right with narrowed eyes, Merlin hastily slipped from his back before the dragon could begin lumbering forwards. As Merlin’s feet struck the flagstones and he stumbled a couple of paces away a blast of fire gushed from Kilgharrah’s mouth setting the yellow cloaks of the nearest couple of men aflame and causing them to scream in panic; the knights around them broke into an unruly scramble to get away from their burning comrades.  Arthur’s free hand was a sudden, steadying grip on his shoulder as Merlin’s stomach heaved at the smell of scorched flesh and the acrid stench of burning wool.  Merlin was still skeptical as to whether Kilgharrah really cared too much which side he was attacking, the dragon had a bloodthirsty streak and he was just relieved that he was focusing it in their favour.  

Several of Godwyn’s knights broke away from the troop to their left that were engaging Lancelot’s men and sought to gain advantage of Merlin’s brief moment of unsteadiness and Arthur’s distraction to attack them.  Arthur swung Excalibur, his mouth twisting into a fierce grin as the blade sliced effortlessly into the side of one of the men, the dragon-forged blade cutting as easily through the chainmail as a fish cutting through silver water.

An instant later Arthur was turning with the grace of an athlete to send Excalibur stabbing up through the armpit of the next man. 

Merlin’s shoulders loosened and his back straightened, he suddenly felt surprisingly calm as his experience of killing rats in the darkness beneath the granaries came back instinctively; that practice had been ideal preparation for this type of confused night-time fighting, Merlin didn’t even really need to see his opponents in order to send the dark magic out for them.  He half-closed his eyes and was only vaguely aware that he was holding his arms slightly away from his sides, his fingers outstretched and pointing towards the earth as his magical senses reached out to feel for the enemies around him. 

He must have seemed like an unarmed, open target and several of Godwyn’s knights began to run towards him.  He heard Arthur’s warning shout and gave a small nod to acknowledge it before sending the dark magic dancing out towards his attackers. 

The magic found the heart of the nearest of the approaching men and curled around it like smoke before a quick twist of his mind tightened it and the heart stopped beating.  Amid the chaos he couldn’t hear the thump and rumble of feet as the man dropped to the ground and his comrades leaped over his corpse and continued towards him.  He did hear the scream as the next man keeled over clutching his chest, but forced himself to ignore it, and sent his magic swooping and tumbling like a black crow through the bodies of the men rushing him to effortlessly drop them before they had a chance to reach him.  He felt almost invulnerable, they couldn’t even get close to him…

A sudden, unexpected push to his shoulder sent him stumbling to one side and Merlin blinked as a sword whistled past his ear.  He realised that it had been Arthur who’d pushed him out of the way and Excalibur moved in a shining arc to drop the man who’d tried to attack him from behind.  Arthur grinned at him and grabbed his shoulder again to give it a brief shake. “You’re doing brilliantly, but don’t get cocky.”

Merlin grinned back at him, his eyes must be sparkling like red embers from the dark magic, but Arthur didn’t even blink at the sight, his smile just widened with obvious pride in Merlin’s abilities.  Merlin fell easily into place with him, back to back, as Arthur’s sword felled the foes attacking from the right, and Merlin’s magic steadily dropped those charging from the left.  It didn’t seem long before they were standing in the centre of a circle of corpses and the yellow knights seemed to be trying to avoid them and fight any other Pendragon knight available. 

The brief lull in their part of the fight gave Merlin the chance to glance up at the balcony where Uther had been standing when they’d arrived, it was deserted now.  If he wasn’t going to be a future rallying point for a Civil War then they needed to find him before he could escape the castle.  He looked around, the fighting was still hard but the Pendragon knights were obviously winning and Godwyn’s men losing heart, he could already see a knot of yellow cloaked men throwing down their swords in surrender on the far side of the courtyard.

“I’m going to find your father.”

“What?”  Arthur span round in alarm.

“You stay here to finish the battle.”

Arthur’s hand was like a striking snake and grabbed his arm before he could dart away.  “We go together, the battle’s almost done, the knights can mop this up without my help.”  Arthur looked across the courtyard and caught Leon’s eye, making some hand gesture that meant nothing to Merlin but obviously told Leon that the two of them were heading after Uther.  Leon grinned at them both and made a tugging gesture near his neck, then jerked his head towards the castle.

“Well done, Leon,” breathed Arthur, and then more loudly to Merlin, “I think they’ve somehow managed to get the triskele pendant off him.”

“How?”

“I’m not a mind-reader, Merlin, we’ll ask him later, perhaps they managed to catch up with him in close fighting when the battle started.”

“And Aredian’s?”  Merlin blurted out the question without thinking, already knowing that Arthur couldn’t know, and kicking himself before the words were out of his mouth.

Arthur’s raised eyebrows confirmed he wouldn’t even reply to that, in the hopes that he wouldn’t draw attention to the fact that he was hand-fasted to an idiot. 

“Oh shut up,” said Merlin, without heat, “I was thinking aloud.”

“Well it’s a start,” said Arthur dryly.

Merlin poked his tongue out in a way that he knew was childish but gave him a lot of satisfaction and made Arthur laugh aloud, then turned and briskly used dark magic to fell two battle-axe-wielding yellow knights who were foolish enough to think that they could block his path.

A little warning voice at the back of his mind told him that the fact of killing so many people would hit him hard later, but for the moment he was living in a sort of impervious mental bubble and he hoped that would last as long as Arthur needed him to stay strong.  Later, when everything had been accomplished, he would have the luxury of allowing himself to fully feel what he had done.  For now he just stepped around the two bodies and broke into a run across the courtyard towards the nearest doorway, knowing that Arthur was close at his heels.

After the chaos of the battle entering the castle was like plunging into the cool, quiet of a cave.  Merlin slammed the heavy door behind them and rested his back against it, if they followed the corridor to the left then they would be heading down past the kitchens towards the depths of the castle and in the general direction of the siege tunnels, if they turned right, then they would be going upwards towards the council rooms and Great Hall.

“Which way?”

Arthur hesitated.  “He must have seen that the battle was going against him, I think he’ll try and escape through the siege tunnels.”

“You don’t have to fight him, I can do it alone now he isn’t wearing the Triskele.”

“And leave you to carry the guilt?  No, we do this together.”

Merlin snorted, “King Uther drowned me, believe me, I’m not going to have sleepless nights over him.”

Arthur’s blue eyes fixed on him with a gentle intensity that seemed to look right through him.  “But you’d have them because he was my father, wouldn’t you?”

Perhaps he would, and perhaps he was terrified that Arthur would look at him differently after he’d killed Uther…that maybe Arthur wouldn’t even be able to bear to look at him all…but it was a burden he was willing to take on to save Arthur pain.

Arthur shook his head and punched Merlin roughly in the upper arm.

“Ouch!  What d’you do that for?”

“You keep trying to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Merlin scowled.  “Is this a knightly way of saying thank you, ‘cause I’m really not getting it?”

“It’s a knightly way of saying stop it, and start looking after yourself.”

Merlin’s expression softened.  “Yes, Sire.”

“And don’t call me, Sire.”

“Force of habit.”

“Really?” said Arthur, striding off down the corridor in the general direction of the kitchens, “because until now you haven’t been in the habit unless you’re feeling particularly sarcastic or irritable.”

Merlin fell into pace beside him.  “You noticed that?”

Arthur looked startled.  “Of course I noticed that, you wield your bad temper like an invisible sledge hammer.”

“I never thought you noticed.”

“I was the Crown Prince, I wasn’t about to let a servant’s tantrums affect me.”

“Hardly tantrums,” huffed Merlin irritably, “I only got annoyed with you when you were doing something incredibly inadvisable.”

Arthur turned his head, his lips quirking upwards.  “Which is why you calling me Sire was always a warning sign that bothered me far more than I let on.”

“Did it?”  Merlin felt a warm glow in his chest.

“Don’t preen.  It’s big-headed.”

“Well, you’d know.”

The banter between them was familiar and well-worn and they both used it as a shield to take their minds off the anxiety roiling in their stomachs about what they might have to do when they got into the lower reaches of the castle and actually found Uther.


	34. Chapter 34

The kitchens were a series of three huge rooms connected by open archways, and at the moment they were completely deserted; all the servants must have fled to barricade themselves in the storerooms as soon as the battle started.  Merlin and Arthur crossed through the cavernous space on their way to the exit on the far side. 

The embers of the fire still glowed red in the huge fireplace used for spit-roasting the wild boar for the coronation feast.  So much had happened since then that Merlin found it hard to believe that it had only been about six hours since he’d been standing in the great hall explaining his town plan to the visiting nobles.

In the middle of the third kitchen area huge lumps of dough lay abandoned on a long, flour-dusted table.  Some servants must have been in the middle of kneading them, preparatory to leaving them to prove overnight, when news of the battle had reached them and they’d run away to hide.  The soft indents of knuckles still stippled the dough, gradually disappearing as the dough slowly rose in the warmth from the dying fire.

The place reminded Merlin of some fairytale where the inhabitants of a castle are mysteriously spirited away and he shivered.

“Merlin!”

Arthur had already reached the door and was waiting impatiently for him to catch up.  He hurried the few paces to Arthur’s side and followed him out onto a flight of narrow winding stairs that spiraled downwards into the gloom.  Merlin summoned a ball of light to glide ahead of them and light their way, its blue glow glimmered on Arthur’s blonde hair and sapped all the colour from his skin, making him look ghostly.  Like the deserted kitchens, it made Merlin feel uneasy and unsettled.

He spoke then, just to break the silence and hear the comforting tones of Arthur’s voice.  “Won’t he be long gone by now?”

“It’s possible,” said Arthur, “but I think he’d have wanted to collect a few items of sentimental value first, I can’t imagine him leaving without my mother’s jewellery.  Plus he’d want to grab as much gold as he could carry.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into a long dark corridor lined with storerooms, some of the doors were closed, some gaping open to reveal shadowy stacks of boxes, barrels and sacks.  Arthur suddenly paused and his hand flashed up in the air telling Merlin to freeze.  Merlin held his breath.  With the fingers of his raised hand Arthur made a small pinching gesture, like someone snuffing out a candle flame, and Merlin let the blue fire dim so that it was barely illuminating the narrow corridor and the open rooms became pits of impenetrable darkness.

For a long moment they stood there, then he heard it, a quiet rustle ahead of them coming from behind one of the closed doors.  Arthur stealthily slid Excalibur from its scabbard and moved forwards. 

He glanced back at Merlin before reaching for the handle of the door, turning it slowly and then abruptly shoving it open.  As the door flew wide, Merlin let the blue light blaze up again so they could see whether they faced Uther or just a servant who had fled here to hide.

The answer was neither.  Instead a large brown rat froze for an instant, startled in the act of gnawing into a sack of turnips.  Then it was gone, streaking across the floor to disappear into the midst of a pile of crates.   

Relieved laughter bubbled up from Merlin’s throat, and even Arthur was grinning as he turned back.  Arthur’s grin disappeared abruptly, his mouth falling open to shout something and his eyes widening in alarm and focusing on a spot behind Merlin, but before Merlin even had a chance to turn he felt someone punch him hard in the small of the back.  He gasped in surprise, and as his ribs moved to take the breath in he felt the odd sensation of a metal blade nestled in amongst his insides…not punched then… 

He reeled away, and his sudden movement ripped the dagger from his assailant’s hand, leaving it embedded in his back. 

“Merlin!”  Arthur grabbed for him as he moved, Excalibur in his right hand, but his free left hand gripping Merlin’s elbow and half supporting him as he threatened to fall.  For an instant the corridor plunged into darkness, but then Merlin forced himself to concentrate and the blue light surged back into being. 

Uther faced them, his sword now unsheathed in a hand still slippery with Merlin’s blood.  “Perhaps you should get him to Gaius before he bleeds to death.”

Merlin winced as Arthur shook with fury and his grip tightened on Merlin’s arm.  Arthur realised and swore, loosening his fingers. “Sorry.”

Merlin gently moved out of Arthur’s hold and staggered a few steps to the side to lean against the wall so that he wouldn’t be an encumbrance if Uther should suddenly decide to lunge.  There was surprisingly little pain, even though he could feel his tunic sticking wetly to his back and blood starting to soak into the waistband of his trousers.  “Should I…?”  Merlin moved his fingers in a flickering motion, he didn’t want to kill Uther in front of Arthur, but he still had the strength to blast Uther back, perhaps knock him out.

“No, this ends here,” said Arthur, “Father, you will lay down your sword now and return with us to the upper levels.  As soon as we reach the knights they will take you to your quarters in the West Wing where you will stay for the rest of your life, and believe me, you will be under such heavy guard that you will never find a way to leave those rooms again.”

Uther frowned.  “You know I can’t do that.  I’d rather die than be a prisoner in my own kingdom.”

“If Merlin…” For a moment Arthur’s voice faltered, but then he seemed to draw his shoulders back and continued coldly, “…you had better pray he recovers or you’ll get your wish.”

Uther smiled coldly.  “Murder your own father, I think not.”

“Execute,” corrected Arthur, “no-one in Camelot is above the law, not even you.”

“Of course the king is above the law, the king _IS_ the law.”

“Not anymore,” said Arthur, “not from the day I took the throne.”

Merlin swallowed past a lump in his throat and wondered if his adoration was obvious on his face. 

The tip of Uther’s sword weaved a slow pattern in the blue light as he loosened the muscles of his arm ready for combat.   “I don’t want to fight you, you’re still my son.  Let me pass.”

“I will not.”

“Would you be so brave without your master over there?”  Uther glared at Merlin.  “He’ll kill me with magic as soon as we join swords.”

“This is between us alone.”  Arthur threw Merlin a look which asked him to abide by his wishes and not to interfere.  The glance morphed into an anxious frown and Merlin nodded reassuringly and tried to straighten his back and stop sagging so heavily against the wall; Arthur didn’t need to be distracted during the fight by concern for him. 

“Let me pass,” said Uther, an ultimatum.

Arthur’s stance dropped into battle-ready; moving lightly on the balls of his feet, his knees slightly bent as he circled slowly to move himself in front of Merlin.  “I will not.”

Despite his age Uther had once been a master swordsman and a skill like that melts into the muscle memory and stays there.  He lunged with deadly quickness and Arthur barely managed to block the blow, the metal clanging as Arthur parried the blow with the flat of his blade. 

They backed away a step, circling slowly and evaluating each other.

Swinging his sword in a broad arc towards Uther’s neck, Arthur stepped suddenly forwards.  Uther’s blade moved up to meet the blow, but at the last moment, Arthur changed the angle of the arc abruptly, dropping the point of the blade to hiss wickedly towards Uther’s waist instead.  Uther danced sideways, barely shifting out of the way in time and a long horizontal gash gaped open in the burgundy leather of his over-tunic.

Their expressions seemed to set and harden as the realisation sank into them that one of them wouldn’t be leaving this encounter alive.  Merlin yearned to use his magic against Uther, but knew Arthur would never forgive him.  If Arthur was to find peace with himself after this, then it could only be through knowing that he had behaved with honour, no matter what provocation his father had given him.

Uther moved forward, swinging his blade in a swooping figure of eight, the air of the corridor whistling faintly as the heavy blade sliced through it. Arthur was being forced backwards by the moving wall of steel.

Only his hands on the wall were keeping him upright as Merlin staggered backwards to keep out of the way, his boots skidding in the pool of blood that had collected at his feet.  His back was hurting fiercely now and he blinked the sweat out of his eyes and concentrated on keeping the blue light burning so that Arthur could see what he was doing.

Uther had a tight smile and Merlin wondered whether he had half-forgotten that it was his own son he was fighting. 

The move Uther was using was flashy and effective but more suited to a display fight on the tourney field than to real combat and he was tiring.  As soon as he saw a break in the glinting whirl of steel Arthur was jabbing through it, making Uther falter and stumble backwards.

The fight continued fierce and vicious, father and son almost equally matched; Arthur had youth and greater skill, but Uther was more ruthless and reckless.

Finally it was Uther who proved to be his own undoing, his right foot slithered out from beneath him on a smear of blood which wouldn’t have been there if he hadn’t stabbed Merlin in the first place.  Arthur was already lunging with his sword as Uther slipped, and Uther’s lurch forwards drove him onto the blade.  Merlin shuddered at the noise of shattering bone as Excalibur crashed through Uther’s chest, clattering through breaking ribs to emerge from Uther’s back.

There was an instant of stillness, with father and son caught in a hideous tableau, and then both of them were sinking to the floor; Arthur grabbing Uther and half-supporting him as his father fell.

Arthur knelt, Uther’s upper body supported across his knees. 

Red bubbled up at the corners of Uther’s mouth, when he spoke his voice sounded slick and wet.  “I loved you, Arthur, remember that.”

Arthur was bending forwards over Uther and Merlin couldn’t see his expression, but his voice was low and composed. “And I loved you, father.  And perhaps nothing you did to me would have truly made me stop,” his voice became even quieter, “but you lost me when you tried to kill the best and kindest man I’ve ever known.”

Uther frowned, even now looking as though he couldn’t understand what he‘d done. Then his body seemed to give a convulsive shiver in Arthur’s arms and Merlin only became aware that Uther had been breathing in thick, shuddering rasps because the noise abruptly ceased and the corridor was silent.  Arthur paused a moment before reaching the fingers of one hand up to close his father’s eyes.

Slowly Arthur lowered Uther’s body to the ground and pushed himself wearily to his feet.  He turned, his eyes red, almost in a daze, and only seemed to shake himself out of it when he saw Merlin slumped on his knees against the wall a few yards away.  Hastily he crossed the distance to Merlin’s side and knelt down beside him, one hand reaching out to cup the side of Merlin’s face, his thumb rubbed a comforting caress across Merlin’s cheekbone.  “You still with me?”

Merlin smiled softly.  “Always.”

“Let’s get you to Gaius.”

Arthur helped Merlin to his feet, then, before he could protest, leaned down and swept one arm up under his knees so that he was carrying him. 

“I can walk,” protested Merlin.

“I don’t want you losing more blood, and it’s not like you weigh more than a suit of chainmail.”

Merlin tightened his arms around Arthur’s neck and let his head sink onto the warm solidity of Arthur’s shoulder.  The fight had been far too close, if Uther had managed to get a lucky blow in and the result had been different…  Merlin blinked away sudden moisture from his eyelashes.  “You’ll regret this after a flight of stairs.”

“Probably.  Just keep the light going, I want to at least see it when I accidentally drop you.”

Merlin chuckled and then grunted in sudden pain.  “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.”

They were almost at the kitchens when Merlin spoke again.  “I’m truly sorry about your father.”

Arthur’s voice was rough.  “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

“Nor you.”  When Arthur didn’t reply, Merlin reached up to catch Arthur’s chin and turn his face down towards him.  “You do know that?  He gave you no choice.”  

“I know.”

Merlin shook his head slightly and nestled his cheek back into the crook of Arthur’s neck, laying a kiss onto the warm, sweaty skin above the neck of his tunic.  They’d reached the kitchens now, and there was light enough here for Merlin to relax and let the blue light go out.  His body seemed to sag in Arthur’s arms at the release of effort, and he felt the arms around him tighten protectively.  Afterwards he wasn’t sure whether he sank into exhausted sleep or unconsciousness, but either way he was blissfully unaware of anything else until he woke up in their own bed the following afternoon. 


	35. Chapter 35

Cool light flooded through the paned windows and the leading threw stripes of pigeon-grey shadow across the scarlet bedspread.  His arms were lying on top of the bedclothes and Merlin twisted one of them slightly, to watch the shadow pattern move across his skin.  Deep inside, he could feel an intense ache in the lower right side of his back, but he felt calm and curiously detached from the pain, as though he was observing it from a distance.

“You’re awake at last.”  Gaius walked into view and sat on the edge of the bed.  His smile looked tired.  “I gave you some poppy extract to dull the pain and help you rest, so you may still be feeling a little sleepy.”

“Not sleepy, just a little…“ Merlin thought about it, “…floaty.”

The room was pleasantly warm and a large fire was blazing in the hearth.  Gaius chuckled and reached up to feel Merlin’s forehead, the skin of his palm felt cool as silk against his face, and Merlin gave a little involuntary mew of protest when Gaius withdrew it and dropped it back onto his knee.  Gaius shook his head.  “You’re a little feverish, but that’s understandable and nothing to worry about, with a wound like that I’d rather you were a little hot than cold and clammy.”

Gaius began telling him what had happened after Merlin fell unconscious.  Uther’s body had been taken to a small room off the council chamber to lie in state for the few days while his tomb was being prepared beneath the castle.  The Pendragon forces had won the battle and the remnants of Godwyn’s army were imprisoned in the dungeons.

“The clean up after the battle was easier than it might have been,” Gaius’ face wrinkled in distaste, “since the dragon took it upon himself to eat any of Godwyn’s army that lay dead.”

Merlin felt slightly sick, “and our dead?”

“He didn’t touch those, thank goodness.  People are actually taking it quite well, the earth’s too frozen to dig graves, and it’ll be difficult enough to gather the wood for the pyres of our own dead, without having to do it for Godwyn’s men as well.  I think a lot of them are almost grateful, though I can’t imagine Godwyn’s people will take it well.” 

“And Kilgharrah?”

“Happily dozing in the courtyard as though he’s always been there.”

While they’d talked Merlin had gradually become aware of a growing pressure in his bladder, he moved to sit up but the ache in his back flamed up into a sharp agony that startled him and he flopped back, gasping for breath.   

“Wait, wait, I’ll help you.”  Gaius helped him into a sitting position and stacked pillows behind him to support him. 

Merlin flushed.  “Sorry, I really need to pee, can you help me to the garderobe?”

“You can’t get out of bed for a few days at least, I’ll get you a chamber pot.”

Gaius turned his back as Merlin used the pot.  Despite needing to go, it was frustratingly harder to pee sitting down than he’d expected as all his instincts told him to hold it in, it took a few moments before his body’s needs could overrule his mental block.

Gaius heard his sharp intake of breath.  “Don’t worry if there’s blood in the urine, that’s to be expected.  Uther’s dagger must have nicked your kidney.”

“I’ve finished.”

Gaius turned round and took the chamber pot from him, examining the contents without embarrassment. “Yes. I don’t think that’s anything to worry about.“  He left to empty the pot and then returned a few minutes later.  “There was a little urine coming from the wound in your back along with the blood, so I knew the kidney had been damaged, it doesn’t seem to be too severe though, and I’ve seen small wounds like that heal with no problems.”

He crossed the room to the table and returned with a pewter plate piled with raw chopped onion and a smaller stack of cubes of soft buttered bread.  “I’ll need you to eat this.”

Merlin couldn’t stop his hand from trembling as he took the plate and rested it on his lap.  Gaius sat down beside him and took his free hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.  “No need to assume the worst.  You’ve come through far worse than this.”

He’d helped Gaius long enough to see this method of diagnosis before; when knights had been brought in with wounds to the stomach and lower back.  Gaius would give them a meal of soup heavily laden with raw onion and the knights would complain how disgusting the soup was, Gaius would just smilingly apologise for his lack of cooking skills. 

But a few hours later, while re-dressing the injury, Gaius would sniff the wound for the pungent aroma of onions.  If he could smell it his expression would fall and his eyes would grow sad, and Merlin would know that the knight was under an inescapable death sentence from infection, since the intestines had been damaged and their contents were leaking into the bloodstream. 

Merlin was grateful that Gaius respected his medical skills, rudimentary as they were, enough not to bother attempting to hide the onion in a soup.  He shivered and Gaius gripped his hand harder. 

“The bread will help it go down a little easier, my boy.”

Merlin put a few lumps of onion into his mouth and began to chew.  There was nothing that could be done when the intestines had been compromised, there was no treatment, the man would die, slowly and in unbearable agony over several days.  All Gaius could do was dose the patient with a huge amount of poppy extract and ease him into a quick death.  

Despite the horror he’d expressed earlier at the idea of being immortal, he realised he didn’t want to die, not now and definitely not like this.  He knew he _could_ die, the body by the well had proved that, but under what circumstances, he didn’t know.

He swallowed the first mouthful of acrid onion, popping a lump of bread into his mouth to dull the taste.  “Kilgharrah was saying, earlier, when we released him, that perhaps I might I might be a bit like the…” Merlin struggled to remember the word, “…the Aper?…the Ubar…?”

“The Upir?”

“Yes,” said Merlin eagerly, spraying the air with tiny crumbs, “yes, that was it.”

Gaius raised an amused eyebrow at him as he slowly wiped some damp crumbs from his sleeve with exaggerated care.  “I’ve got a description of them in my books.  They are creatures from Rus.”

“Rus?”  Merlin’s knowledge of geography was sketchy at best.

“A huge and savage land beyond the eastern sea where winters are so harsh that entire towns will be snowed-in long enough to exhaust their supplies and starve to death.  Only to be found after the late-spring melts, when the first trader to enter them will discover the buildings untouched and perfect, but full of bones.”

Merlin shivered, what would that be like?  Walking into a completely empty town, your echoing footsteps on the cobbles the only sound.  Opening doors and entering house after house, to find only silent skeletons, lying where they’d died, perhaps huddled together in beds against the cold. 

“And the Upir?”

Gaius looked thoughtful.  “Perhaps an adaptation to that harsh land, I wonder if it’s somewhat similar to the way the hardy ponies of the moorlands have developed their thick, rough coats.  The Upir look like men, but they are impervious to the cold and unnaturally strong, and can survive what ordinary men could not.”

“Well that sounds good.”

“They are abominations,” said Gaius sadly, “they survive by drinking the blood of ordinary people.  Tales tell that a single Upir can kill an entire village.”

“Why would Kilgharrah liken me to them?” said Merlin popping another handful of onion into his mouth, “I’ve never felt the urge to drink blood.”

“Perhaps he means their healing abilities, they can survive almost indefinitely unless they are killed in certain ways.  The tales say that they are already dead, but since they can be killed without magic, I wonder if the stories are wrong about that, perhaps they are alive but it is just harder to kill them.”

“How can they be killed?”

“My books talk about destroying their heart, or burning, or decapitation.  Reading between the lines, I think that their bodies have unusual abilities to heal but, like normal folk, a certain level of injury will still prove too much and will be fatal.”

“And with me?”

“You were certainly dying from the poison of the Mortaeus flower…I think you briefly _did_ die…and without the plant that Arthur brought for me to make an antidote, I don’t think you would have survived.  You seemed to be drowned before Agravaine pulled you from the bath, if he hadn’t pulled you out so soon, perhaps you wouldn’t be here now.”

“And now?”

“And now,” said Gaius, smiling and patting his shoulder, “we know you have a nasty injury to the kidney and you need to sit still for a few days and stop worrying.”

“And eat my onions.”

Gaius’ smile faded.  “And that.”

“Where’s Arthur?”

“He lay next to you all night, and sat with you all morning, but then he had to leave to meet with the other royalty to reassure them that the battle was over and that he was still firmly in charge.”

“How is he?  I should be with him.”

“Don’t fret, he’s coping well; the only good thing about Uther’s actions is that he put enough distance between them that Arthur is finding his death easier to deal with than he might otherwise.  His concern for you is helping to take his mind off his own grief too.”  Gaius smiled.  “I almost had to beat him out of here with a broom to make him finally drag himself away from your side for the meeting.”

Merlin’s eyes misted over and he smiled fondly.  “I hope the meeting’s going well.  It’s good that in this world Agravaine is there to support him.”

Gaius gently prised the plate from his fingers, and Merlin realised with surprise that it was empty.

The old man leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his forehead, “Rest now.”

Merlin had slept for so long, that he didn’t think he could sleep again, but within seconds he must have drifted off, since that was the last he knew until a weight settling on the bed, woke him up again.

The shadows on the bed had moved round and no longer fell across his arms.  Arthur, still fully clothed, in a red tunic exquisitely embroidered in gold thread with tiny stars, had climbed up onto the bed to sit next to him.   “Hey there, lazy daisy.”

Merlin laughed, “That’s mine, you can’t say that.”

“I think I just have, you can’t _own words_ , Merlin …How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad, providing I don’t move, Gaius has been feeding me poppy.”

Arthur leaned across to kiss him and then recoiled as Merlin opened his lips.  “Gods! Merlin! What have you been eating?”

“Just some onions,” Merlin said brightly, “I woke up with a craving.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows.  ”You really are the oddest man.” He leaned forward again and kissed him.

With a sudden sense of mischief Merlin opened his mouth and probed his tongue deeply between Arthur’s lips, Arthur responded enthusiastically for a moment and then drew back scowling.

“That actually burns!  How much onion did you eat?”

“Quite a bit.”

“I’m surprised Gaius let you, I’d have thought he’d have you on bland food until you’re a bit better.”

Merlin struggled to maintain his grin.  “It’s good for the…blood…he was fine with it.”

Arthur half-shrugged, “Well, as long as you’re on the mend.”

“How did the meeting go?” asked Merlin, changing the subject.

“Good.  We held it around the new round table.  I said that Godwyn had decided to mount an attack but I didn’t link it to my father.  I said that Uther had risen from his sick bed at the sound of battle and had been killed in a skirmish trying to defend the castle.  I don’t know how many of them actually believed me, but they pretended to, and that’s all that counts in matters of diplomacy.”

“What are you going to do with Godwyn’s men in the dungeons?”

“Ransom them back to him at an exorbitant price.  I think he attacked with the best intentions, just because he was a childhood friend of my father’s, but it pays to be on the safe side.  By the time he’s finished paying for his men’s release, he won’t have the funds to look at doing anything outside his own borders for a while.”  

“Did you show them the maps we copied from Cenred?”

“I did, and they were very impressed,” Arthur rested a hand on the bedcovers above Merlin’s knee and squeezed it affectionately, “both by the maps, and by the way you’d created them.  I think half of them would like to kidnap you and spirit you away just for your map-making abilities.”    

“I knew you hand-fasted me for a reason.”

Arthur laughed, “It wasn’t your map-making abilities that drew me in.”  After a pause, he added, “Queen Annis started to talk of making me High King in the battle against Cenred and his Saxon forces…just as a way of coordinating all the separate kingdoms under one banner in a united effort.”

Merlin felt his heart thumping with pride, but kept his voice level.  “That sounds like an excellent idea.  How did King Esa take it?”

“Surprisingly amenable, I think walking past Kilgharrah sleeping in the courtyard cowed him into submission.  And he actually wished you a speedy recovery in a tone that sounded like he almost half-meant it.”

Merlin laughed, and then winced as his back protested.  Arthur’s hand reached for his and tangled their fingers together.

“Did you know,“ continued Arthur, “it was Agravaine who persuaded Esa to come to the peace talks, he wasn’t going to come.”

“Your uncle really does seem different in this world,” said Merlin thoughtfully, ”I hope he turns out to be someone you can turn to.”

“Well, I hope he’ll be someone I can trust,” said Arthur lightly, “but you’re all I need.”

“But, if I wasn’t here…then…it would be good to have someone else.”

Arthur frowned and his voice was suddenly sharp, “What?  The wound isn’t worse than Gaius told me is it?  There’s no danger?”

“No, no,” said Merlin with a smile, “just me rambling on, it’s just good to have family, and after your father…”

Arthur nodded, then stiffened, “I’ve been a fool, do you want me to send for Hunith?”

Merlin shook his head.  “Not yet, I am feeling tired again though, will you lie down with me a while?”

“Of course.”

Later, lying carefully on his back, with Arthur’s warm, sleeping weight nestled against his side, Merlin felt the cool wetness of tears running from his eyes and sliding down his cheeks.  Everything in the room felt precious: the slowly dimming, silvery sunlight, the dark oak of the cupboard with the cantankerous door, the ancient, familiar grey stone of the walls that had come to be his home…but most of all the man lying beside him, who still, even deeply asleep, clutched tight hold of his fingers as though they were his only lifeline.  He was so afraid, he didn’t want to leave this.

It took a while, but he eventually fell asleep.


	36. Chapter 36

“Merlin.” 

He blearily opened his eyes to see Gaius putting a bowl of steaming water on the side table.

“I need to change your dressing.”

Merlin blinked and nodded, and Gaius helped him to sit up.  The sky outside the window had darkened to a deep mauve and the candles were lit around the room, but Arthur was still beside him, sprawled on his back and snoring softly.  He’d only intended to doze beside Merlin for a while, so although he’d removed his tunic he was still wearing his trousers; he must be exhausted both mentally and physically to have continued to sleep.  Merlin longed to reach out and run his fingers over the warmth of the lightly furred chest, but didn’t want to wake him.

Gaius held a cup of poppy extract to his lips and helped him drink the bitter painkiller before beginning to unwind the muslin strip that bandaged his lower back.  Once it was almost off he used a cloth soaked in the hot water to ease the last of the cloth away.  Merlin held himself still, barely daring to breathe as Gaius leant forwards to examine the seeping wound.

“Well?”

The relief on Gaius’ face was obvious as he straightened up.  “No sign of infection and no odour of onions; you’re going to be driving us all to distraction for many years yet.”

 Merlin released a shaky breath. 

Once he’d re-dressed his injury Gaius helped him to lie down again.  “You should eat something now, I’ll send for some soup.”

“How long till the evening meal in the Great Hall?”

“Tell me you aren’t thinking of attending?”

Merlin laughed.  “Hardly!  At the moment I don’t even feel like getting out of bed, let alone sitting for hours trying to make small talk with Annis.  But Arthur’s going to be ravenous when he wakes.”

Gaius’s expression softened as he looked at Arthur.  “I always knew he was going to be greater than his father, but I never dreamed...  You should have seen him standing at the round table today, showing the others the maps you’d made and persuading Olaf and Bayard and the rest to join him in battling Cenred’s army and his Saxon mercenaries; even the older kings couldn’t drag their eyes from him, it was as though they were fluttering moths and he was a bright, steady flame.  And as for the younger nobles, the way they stared at him, you might have thought he was a king from legend brought to life.”

“And so he is,“ Merlin smiled fondly as Arthur punctuated the conversation with a particularly loud snore, “or will be, if what Kilgharrah says is true.  In a thousand years his name will still be known, I’m sure of it.”

“And will you be equally famous?”  Gaius raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Don’t tease.”  Merlin laughed, but then grew serious.  “In one of the visions that Hecate showed me I was an old man, there was a road made from one smooth ribbon of stone…” Merlin’s eyes unfocused as he tried to remember, “...a huge, metal cart went past so quickly that the breeze from it blew back my hair.  But Arthur wasn’t there.  I knew I was waiting for him.  I’d been waiting for him forever.  I felt so lost…  That isn’t true is it?”

Gaius was frowning now and put a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder.

“This past day I’ve been worrying that I’ll die and leave him too soon,” continued Merlin, “but what if I’m like the Upir and I never leave?  What if that’s my destiny, to live a thousand years waiting for his return…”

Now Gaius shook his head. “That’s just the poppy talking, sometimes it makes people emotional, once you’ve had something to eat you’ll feel more like yourself; chicken soup cures all ills.”

Merlin realised that he was making Gaius distressed and shrugged.  “Well you’re right, I am starving.  Could you ask the kitchen to send up a variety of food for Arthur as well, for when he wakes.”

“Of course.”

Once Gaius had closed the door behind him, Merlin relaxed back onto the pillows. 

“So did I come back?”

Jerking sideways, Merlin yelped as pain shot up his back.

Arthur’s hand caught his bare arm in a warm grip.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“I thought you were asleep.”  Merlin tried to catch his breath. 

Arthur sat up, running one hand roughly through blonde hair mussed from sleep.  “I was, I only heard the end…was that a true vision…the thing where you had to wait a thousand years for me?”

“I think it might have been longer.  And as I told you before, there were many different visions, but I think that was one of the ones which scared me the most.”

“And were we reunited?”

“I don’t know, the vision ended.”

Arthur frowned, “I don’t know what help I’d be to anyone by returning in a thousand years’ time.  Everything we know now would have been swept away.  Could you imagine an ancient tribesman from a thousand years ago with only knowledge of his own tiny village walking into Camelot with a stone spear and trying to help us with modern battle tactics, or diplomacy, or the complexities of harvesting enough food to get a whole country through the winter?”

“I don’t care how much help you’d be to anyone else, I’d just want you to come back to me.”  Merlin frowned.  “I’m sorry.  We’re alive and we’re together, I should be overjoyed…and really, I am!  …but I can’t seem to stop thinking about the future.”

“In only a few months,” Arthur began raising his fingers one by one to count off his points as he made them, “you’ve watched me almost die in battle on our world, then both our deaths here, then seen Morgana almost murder me, then been through several near-deaths yourself.”  By the time he paused, the number of fingers raised was daunting.  “I think a little bit of anxiety about how long we’re going to live is understandable.”

Arthur hummed thoughtfully under his breath. 

Merlin looked at him. “What?”

“I just had an idea, I’d like to talk to Kilgharrah about it first though.”

Merlin’s eyebrows rose.  “You want to talk to _Kilgharrah_ about something before you mention it to me?”

“I think the sarcastic, cryptic pain-in-the-behind is going to be sticking around Camelot for a long while, so I might as well make him work for all those sheep we’re going to have to feed him.”

“I was sure he’d fly off for the mountains once he was freed.”

“When I went through the courtyard today I quizzed him on his intentions and, from what I can tell, reading between the lines of what he actually _says_ , all those years in solitary confinement have left him desperate for company.”  Arthur’s voice softened, “I can understand that.  It also doesn’t hurt that the townspeople have been bringing him “tribute” all morning.  Apparently his help against Godwyn’s knights means that he’s some sort of living embodiment of the Pendragon emblem.  He’s been wolfing down sacrificial pigs and chickens and the occasional goat all day.  Half way through talking to me he actually burped.”  Arthur’s face screwed up at the memory.  “And it wasn’t pleasant, I can tell you.”

A knock at the door announced that someone had brought the food Merlin had asked for and then their talk turned to the upcoming battle against Cenred.

*************************************

In fact it was more than five months before the idea that Arthur had casually mentioned was raised between them again. 

During those months Merlin recovered and was at Arthur’s side by the time he was ready to lead the united armies of Albion against Cenred and the Saxon threat. 

The dark shadow of Kilgharrah swooping from the skies to rain fire on the enemy broke their morale, at the same time as Merlin’s magic and Arthur’s skillful leading of the military forces broke their physical threat.

In the weeks after the battle, by general consensus of the united lands, Essetir was put under Camelot’s control.  And in the following months Arthur was granted the title of High King; an honour which conferred on him the responsibility for overseeing a regular assembly around Camelot’s round table of the rulers of the different lands.  Merlin sat by his side while trade agreements were coordinated, and any disagreements between the lands were verbally thrashed out on the neutral territory of Camelot before they escalated into war.

*************************************

Merlin was standing on cracked, dry earth that would soon become a street, squinting upwards through blazing sunlight, while a scroll covered in architectural sketches and scrawled measurements unravelled from one hand.  There was no point trying to shout a message to the carpenter high on the scaffolding above him as the whole of this area of the lower town was now loud with the sounds of rumbling carts, hammers and sawing wood.  Merlin jabbed his finger upwards enthusiastically towards the window that the carpenter was working on and then made exaggerated turning gestures.  The carpenter stared down at him with an expression of bewildered affability.

Merlin suddenly jumped in surprise as arms encircled his waist from behind and Arthur’s face nuzzled into the warm, sweaty gap between his tunic and his neckerchief.

“What are you doing?”

Merlin shook his head slightly.  “It’s a new design and he’s putting it in upside down.”

The carpenter seemed to take Arthur’s appearance as a cue to continue cementing in the frame; Merlin sighed and sent his voice magically upwards to whisper in the carpenter’s ear, he hadn’t wanted to do it as he didn’t like making the man jump, but he really had no choice.  “You’re putting the window in upside down, Eadburg.”

He saw the moment Eadburg heard him as the carpenter’s whole body stiffened in surprise, then Eadburg relaxed, grinned broadly and made a thumbs-up sign before beginning to pull out the window frame to turn it the right way up.

Merlin turned in Arthur’s arms, laughing into Arthur’s mouth as he found himself thoroughly kissed. 

“The houses are coming along impressively,” said Arthur when he finally drew back for breath, “I married a sorcerer, a demon in the bedroom, _and_ an architect, who could ask for more.”

“The plans are all derived from Geoffrey’s books,“ said Merlin modestly, then grinned mischievously, his eyes crinkling up into crescents, “I’ve got to admit that you’re right on the other two counts though.”

A small figure came racing towards them and barreled into Arthur’s side, knocking the breath out of his body, even as it flung two clinging arms around his waist.

“Arthur!  Lancelot is ready to go, he’s waiting in the White Hart, are you coming to see him off?”

Arthur looked down into Bryn’s face and ruffled his hair. “We’re coming.”

“Where’s Lancelot going?” asked Merlin with a frown.  “He’s hardly had time to warm his marriage bed.  Are you sending him off somewhere?”

“Gwen promised she can do without him for a month or two,” said Arthur, “and Lancelot volunteered for the quest, I’m not ‘sending’ him.”

“A quest for what?”

“The sacred cup,” said Bryn. “The cup of life.”

Merlin stepped back.  “You don’t mean the cup Morgana used to raise her immortal army, surely?”

Arthur nodded, then said quietly, “Kilgharrah and Gaius both seem to agree that it might be the answer to our…problem.  If you do have to wait around for a thousand years or so, then…perhaps I could wait with you.”

For a moment Merlin was confused by Arthur’s concerned expression and the way he lunged forwards towards him, but then he realised that Arthur’s sudden grip on his arms was the only thing keeping him upright.

“You’ve been standing out in this sun too long.” Arthur put an arm around his shoulders, “walk with us to the tavern to wish Lancelot well on his quest, and we’ll have a cool ale with him while we’re there.” 

*************************************

They expected Lancelot back well before the autumn, but he returned eight months later.  His disappointment at returning empty handed was tempered by the joy at arriving back just before Gwen gave birth to his first son. They named him Galahad.


	37. Chapter 37

****

**_***** Twenty five years later*****_ **

 

The long, narrow boat rocked gently and the reflection of its exquisitely carved and gilded sides suddenly broke and scattered on the ripples like gold coins glinting on the water.  Merlin realised that Leon had untied the mooring rope.

Within the boat, Arthur’s prone form was almost hidden by a blaze of flowers: roses in blush pink and blood red, lilies white as sea-foam and poppies as scarlet as a knight’s cloak, scattered amongst them were nodding bluebells the clear violet of a twilight sky, and every other shade of flower that the populace could find to honour him.  The grassy bank where Merlin stood had been entirely covered by the overflow of blooms as more and more people arrived at the shores of Avalon bearing flowers to cast down in honour of their greatest King.

White roses tumbled up the sides of the silken pillow like a snowdrift to almost touch the fair hair that fanned out beneath Arthur’s head.  His eyes were closed, the lines of his face smoothed by a gentle half-smile.  Although his hair was still predominantly blond, his beard was now more grey than fair and the hands that were folded on his breast over the hilt of Excalibur were no longer those of a young man.

They were strong, graceful hands, thought Merlin, equally skillful at wielding a sword with deadly skill or delivering a tender caress.  One of the rose thorns had caught the back of Arthur’s left hand, leaving a shallow rip studded with blood droplets.  Merlin sent his magic out to caress Arthur’s fingers, before sealing the skin and wiping away the blood.

Lancelot’s hand came down softly on Merlin’s shoulder.  “It’s time.”

He was right, the lakeside was as full with Camelot’s inhabitants as it could hold.  You would expect some subdued whispering, even if only from the children, but the crowd was eerily silent, their faces pale and sombre.  Nearer to the lake’s edge most of the knights were gathered in a solemn cluster, their cloaks a bright splash of solid red against the multicolored carpet of flowers on the ground. 

The scene suddenly merged and misted into a jumble of sun-bright colour and Merlin dragged a rough hand across his eyes.

Up on the hill, close to the tree line were clustered the band of Warlocks and Witches who had pledged themselves to Camelot’s service in the same way as the knights, coming from far and wide to seek Merlin’s tutelage.  Aife was standing to the forefront of them, watching him with her quiet grey eyes, her long brown hair falling loose to her waist over her simple grey gown.  She was strong, practical and patient, not to mention incredibly gifted magically.  Merlin had faith that she would lead the magic users ably once he was gone.

Closer to where he stood were his dearest friends, Gwen with her tall, handsome children clustered around her, Gwaine beside wise, kind Padraic who had finally been the one to make him settle down, Leon and his family, all his children blessed with his unkempt red hair, Percival and Elyan, who it had taken them so long to find, as well as the newer but equally dear friends that he and Arthur had made over the last twenty-five years.

And Bryn of course, a man now, and a handsome one at that; His shoulders broad and muscular from the years of sparring against Arthur, his ears not seeming quite so prominent as they had been when he’d been a scrawny child.  He’d been their shadow for so long, soaking up everything they could teach him, and so obviously worshipping them both, that nobody was surprised when Arthur named him their heir.  He was holding himself with the quiet dignity that befitted a new king, but his face was pale, his lips were tight, and his eyes were bright and red-rimmed.

Merlin wished Gaius and Geoffrey were still alive, and could half imagine them standing with the others, like shadowy half-seen figures glimpsed from the corner of the eye.

The sun was high in a perfect blue sky.  In the centre of the lake, the Isle of Avalon reflected like a green jewel in the breeze-rippled water, its stone towers gilded golden by the sunlight.

Merlin stood for a long moment watching the golden boat rock gently on the lake, then raised his hand, fingers outstretched, and sent the craft gliding out towards the Isle.  As the boat skimmed away across the glittering surface as lightly as a swallow, a heat haze seemed to settle across the surface of the water making the colours of the flowers piled on the boat shimmer and undulate like a mirage or a multi-coloured silk fluttering in the breeze. 

The massed people on the bank watched silently until the wavering pastel shape became impossible to see, blending seamlessly into the glitter of the sunlight off the water and shifting greens of Avalon ahead of it.

Only the magic users, the knights and his close friends knew what Merlin was about to do next.  He turned to face the crowd, the fingers of one hand smoothing absently at the silver-flecked beard that he’d allowed to grow over the past few years.  Then he stilled and let his hand drop back to his side.  He was aware that he held everyone’s rapt attention.

“King Arthur is gone.  I know you all mourn his loss deeply; he was the brightest and wisest of men, and the best of Kings.  If anyone had a grievance or a problem, from the highest to the lowest, they knew that the King would listen attentively and that he would care. He leaves the kingdom in the capable hands of Bryn.”  Merlin threw a warm smile at Bryn who was holding himself as tightly as a drawn bow and seemed unable to smile, his eyelashes flickering wildly and his Adam’s apple jumping as he swallowed.

Merlin continued. “Bryn has been as much of a son to both of us these past years as any son of our own bodies might have been.  I only ask that you give him the same love and loyal service that you have given us all these years.” 

There was a low susurration of disquiet then, the dawning unease that Merlin didn’t seem to be speaking of himself as being part of these plans for the future.

Merlin began to walk forwards, the crowd parting before him to leave a path of flowers up to the side of the hill overlooking the lake.  He walked the colourful carpet of blossoms until he reached the slope of the hill, then he turned to face Avalon and closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again he smiled brightly, his gaze roaming over the faces of the crowd, many of them familiar to him, and for a moment his age seemed to fall away from him.  “King Arthur will return, not for a long time, I think not for many years, perhaps even after your grandchildren’s grandchildren are gone.”

Merlin began silently weaving the spell and felt the warmth of the sun-kissed earth as his feet began to slide into it, and the twisting hardness that began to unfurl itself like scrambling bindweed through the bones of his shins and up into his lower legs.

“But some day, when Albion is in its time of greatest need, and at the time of its greatest darkness, Arthur will return to lead it back into the light.  Until then, I hope you will forgive me if I wait for him here.”

He sent a last reassuring smile to Bryn, who was looking so pale Merlin was afraid he might faint any moment, and then let the magic surge up through him.  Sap and fresh green wood replaced veins and sinews, his arms were carried upwards and broke into a thousand twigs reaching towards the sunlight and bursting with fine needle-like leaves.  Fresh, soft, new wood quickly hardened, and bark crackled across his surface like snuggling into a warm, familiar blanket on a cold day.  

The transformation was complete, and a large, twisted yew tree stood, where none had been before, on the slopes of the lake.  It looked as though it had always been there, and was ready to stand there for a thousand years more, waiting for the King’s return. 

The sun gleamed on the lake and a light breeze made the leaves of the alder trees rustle and flicker from green to silvery grey.  A blackbird broke the silence by flying from the forest to land on one of the branches of the yew and began to sing.

***********************************

The banks of the lake were finally empty, the knights had followed their orders and gently ushered the crowds back towards the town.

Only the yew stood silently watching the water.  A sudden quivering in the branches alarmed the warbling blackbird and sent it fluttering away towards another tree.

After a moment the wood of the trunk peeled back like a curtain and Merlin stepped carefully out, stretching his arms and cracking his shoulders with obvious enjoyment as the bark smoothed back into place behind him.  He let the long-held glamour fall away from him, and with it the signs of age disappeared; the lines smoothed from his skin and the silver disappeared from his hair.  He smoothed a hand over the beard, now pure black, and wondered for a moment whether to keep it, before making up his mind and using magic to shave it from his face.  It fell to the ground in a small shower of dark hair and Merlin rubbed his fingers over the smooth skin of his chin.

He turned and patted the bole of the tree affectionately, looked up and smiled at the blueness of the sky, and then set out to walk briskly round the lake.

 As he rounded the lake he saw them waiting, Bryn and Gwaine and Leon and the others.  The golden boat had been pulled up onto the low mud of the bank nearby.

Bryn was the first to see him and ran to meet him, almost knocking Merlin over as he caught him up in a fierce hug. 

“Take it easy,” laughed Merlin, “you’re not six anymore, you’ll squeeze the breath out of me.”

Bryn laughed and pushed Merlin back to look at him, “Gods!  You don’t look any older than me, you look as I remember you when I first saw you.  Is this really what you’ve looked like all these years?”

“Under the glamour, yes.  We could hardly stay unchanged for decades, it would have alarmed everyone I think.”

Merlin put his arm around Bryn’s shoulders and they walked together across the grass to join the others.  

Gwen punched him on the arm.  “That tree thing almost made me cry.”

Merlin blinked at her.  “You knew what I was going to do.”

“But actually seeing it…it was...”  Gwen snuffled and Lancelot smiled in amusement and passed her a handkerchief.

Merlin turned to the boat and released the stillness spell from Arthur who sat up sneezing convulsively, flowers tumbling from his chest.  “Whose idea was it to cover me in a bloody garden, my nose has been itching enough to kill me and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”

Leon laughed and stepped over to the boat, extending his hand to help Arthur to his feet and onto dry land.   

Arthur took the hand gratefully, and then rubbed the back of his hand, “I think one of the damn roses scratched me too.”

“It did,” said Merlin, “I had to hastily magic the scratch away before some sharp eyed person started to question why a corpse was bleeding.”

Arthur stretched and rolled his neck, before grinning at Merlin.  “Lose this glamour now would you.”

“Vain as ever,” quipped Merlin, moving his fingers to whisk away the appearance spell. 

Arthur’s true self was revealed, youthful and in the prime of life.

“Do you want to keep the beard?”

Arthur hesitated, “No, I do quite like it, but I want a new start, can you get rid of it?”

Merlin nodded and Arthur’s beard disappeared in the same way that his own had.

Gwaine walked over to Arthur and embraced him.  “That funeral was far too real for comfort, I’m glad you’re still here, Princess.”   He drew back slightly and looked critically at Arthur.  “Though I’m really not sure I like the fact that I’m now well grey and you haven’t got a white hair on your head.”

“Which is all down to you, my friend.  If you hadn’t spent that year searching for the Cup of Life then things would have been very different.  I only wish all of you could have drunk from it as well.”

Gwaine shrugged dismissively.  “The magic was always intended for you and Merlin, it just helped you fulfil your destiny in a slightly different way, it was never meant to make anyone else immortal.  Besides, if I hadn’t gone questing to Eire then I would never have met my beloved Padraic and would probably be dead of the pox by now.”

Padraic rolled his eyes, “Polite as ever, Gwaine, I can’t take you anywhere.”

Gwaine gave a throaty chuckle. “Oh, you can take me anywhere, love.”   

A warm flush rose in Padraic’s cheeks and he looked flustered.  Gwaine laughed more loudly and went over to pull his partner into a hug.

“Do you really need to go?”  Bryn was looking between Merlin and Arthur imploringly.  He’d obviously intended to hold back any protests but now the moment had come he just couldn’t help himself.  “Couldn’t you stay somehow?”

Arthur reached out and put a steadying hand on Bryn’s shoulder, both men were the same height now, and although there was no blood between them, Bryn had unconsciously picked up some of Arthur’s mannerisms and sometimes reminded Merlin so deeply of a younger version of his husband. 

“You know we can’t, little weasel,” said Arthur affectionately, “Merlin and I have had a long reign in Camelot, and unless we want to admit that we’re both immortal now, then it’s time for us to move on before people start wondering why we aren’t old and infirm.  And I, for one, have no wish to spend the next twenty years pretending to be too old to get out of a comfy chair.”

“Besides,” added Merlin, “we’ve both been responsible and taken care of the kingdom for long enough.”  He met Arthur’s gaze and saw his answering expression of barely suppressed excitement.  “We’re ready to go on adventures again.”

“Albion has become incredibly quiet and prosperous under Camelot’s guidance,” agreed Arthur, “I hate to say it, but I’m starting to get terribly bored.”

The noise of wings rent the quiet of the summer afternoon and Kilgharrah flapped out of the blue sky to land heavily on the grass nearby.  “Are you ready?”

“Where will you go?” asked Leon.

Arthur pulled his old friend into a tight hug, “I don’t know,” he glanced at Merlin, “we’re thinking perhaps Rome to start, I’ve always wanted to see Rome, and then perhaps down to Greece so Merlin can actually put to use some of that language he’s been sweating away at for so long…then who knows…maybe down through Egypt into the hot lands beyond…they say there are wonderful animals living out there, as strange as anything magical.”

Lancelot pulled Merlin into a farewell embrace.  “Will we ever see you again?’

“I don’t think so,” said Merlin apologetically.  “Though we will be back, one day, Arthur does have a destiny to fulfil at some point in the future, but I think we won’t be in Albion for a few lifetimes.”

Arthur nodded.  “And hopefully, by the time I am called to do the whole destiny thing, I’ll have a thousand or more years of knowledge and experience behind me, rather than just waking up from some enchanted sleep or something.”  Arthur looked at Lancelot, “Will you safeguard the Cup of Life and Excalibur for us?”

“Of course,” said Lancelot, “I’m honoured that you’ve left the treasures with me, eventually the care of them will pass to Galahad,” Lancelot nodded to his son, already as quiet and wise as his father, “and after him, to his firstborn, until you claim them on your return.”

They all talked for a while longer, but then Kilgharrah started to become restless, and Merlin and Arthur made their final farewells.   The very last of their affectionate hugs and kisses were for Bryn, and they left him bravely standing tall amongst all the devoted friends who would support him during his reign.

They climbed onto Kilgharrah and Leon passed up the small pack of clothes and coins that they were taking with them.  Arthur held tightly to Merlin’s waist as the dragon took flight and rose rapidly into the air.  Kilgharrah did one circuit high above the clearing, giving them time to look down at their loved ones way below them, still standing and waving, then he set course southwards toward the coast and, beyond that, the continent. 

Arthur squeezed Merlin’s arm and pointed at the spires of Camelot gleaming above the treetops off to one side. 

“Will you’ll miss it?” asked Merlin.

“I’ll miss Bryn desperately, and our friends of course, but Camelot?  No, I don’t think I will.  I’ve been cooped up for so long that I’m ready to spread my wings.”  He heard Kilgarrah snort and added with a grin, “figuratively speaking.”

“Ready for adventure?” asked Merlin, eyes sparkling.

“Ready for anything and everything, so long as you're by my side,” replied Arthur, the sun glinting off his hair, and laughing aloud from the sheer joy of living, “for us today isn’t an ending, it’s just the very beginning.”

 

_Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends... for me at least, for Arthur and Merlin the adventure goes on forever. :D
> 
> HUGE thank yous to everyone who stuck with it, and for every kind person who left kudos or was nice enough to comment.
> 
> xx


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